' 


UCSB  LIBRARY 

X- ^13 3-5 


HELEN  MULGRAVE; 


OR, 


JESUIT '  EXECUTORSHIP:" 

BEING    PASSAGES    IN    THE    LIFE    OF 

A  SECEDER  FROM  ROMANISM. 

3 n  Statahii 


'  The  net  has  fallen  upon  me  ;  I  shall  perish 
Under  device  and  practice." 

Shakespeare. 


NEW    YORK: 
DE    WITT    &    DAVENPORT,    PUBLISHERS. 


160   AND   lfi'2    NASSAU   f-'TREET. 


IT.  H.  Tinxon,  1'rintfr  <nuf  Mfrtntyper,  R.  CRAIOHEAD,  PRINTER, 

2'2  Hprune  Street,  New  York.  53  Vesey  st.,  N.  Y. 


OR, 

JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP 


CHAPTER  I. 

Ye  household  deities,  whose  guardian  eye 
Mark'd  each  pure  thought  ere  register'd  on  high, 
Still,  still,  ye  walk  the  consecrated  ground, 
And  breathe  the  soul  of  inspiration  round  ! 

ROGERS 

As  an  autobiographer  is  expected  to  say  something  of  his 
birth,  parentage,  and  education,  I  will  begin  my  narrative  with 
some  particulars  of  mine,  in  the  relation  of  which  I  shall  endea- 
vor to  be  brief. 

My  father  and  mother,  who  were  Irish,  were  both  Roman 
Catholics  by  hereditary  descent ;  their  families,  for  several  gene- 
rations, having  been  born  in  the  Romish  church. 

My  father,  who  inherited  from  his  ancestors  an  ancient  baron- 
etcy, had  two  brothers.  At  the  time  of  the  opening  of  this  nar- 
rative, the  elder  of  the  two  was  a  barrister  residing  in  London, 
where  he  had  married  an  English  Protestant  heiress.  The 
younger  was  a  bishop  in  the  Roman  Catholic  church,  living  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  Cork. 

My  mother,  the  only  daughter  of  an  old  Irish  family,  of  high 
descent,  but  of  little  hereditary  property,  had  two  brothers,  who 
early  in  life  had  become  adventurers  for  fame  and  fortune  on  the 
continent.  Each  had  distinguished  himself  in  his  career;  the 
one  as  a  soldier,  the  other  as  a  civilian.  The  elder  of  the  two, 
the  Baron  de  Wallenstein,  resided  in  Vienna,  and  held  high 
office  under  the  Austrian  government.  The  younger,  the  Count 


4  HELEN    MULGRAVE  ;    OB, 

de  Carryfort,  lived  in  Paris,  retired  from  his  profession,  and  in 
possession  of  a  competent  fortune. 

My  father,  Sir  William  Mulgrave,  occupying  an  old  ancestral 
castle  near  the  lakes  of  Killarney,  with  a  beloved  wife  and  four 
children,  was  for  many  years  one  of  the  happiest  men  in  exist- 
ence. 

If  it  should  be  thought  that  want  of  foresight,  or  omission  of 
calculation,-  undermined  his  fortune  and  destroyed  his  happiness, 
it  must  be  recollected  that  he  but  resembled  many  of  his  coun- 
trymen, whose  warm  and  generous  natures  seem  formed  for  any- 
thing but  self-preservation. 

My  father  was,  in  truth,  a  genuine  Irish  gentleman  of  the 
'  olden  times,'  without  his  vices,  but  wedded,  nevertheless,  to  the 
habits  of  his  class  and  country ;  and  being  utterly  unaware  that 
the  sordid  changes  going  on  in  the  world  were  encroaching,  in 
hostile  spirit,  on  his  own  domain,  he  perceived  not  the  new  posi- 
tion in  which  they  placed  him,  and  therefore  never  defended 
himself  against  their  consequences. 

Mulgrave  Castle,  the  name  of  our  residence,  stood  on  a  lofty 
eminence,  commanding  views  of  surpassing  beauty.  It  was  a 
building  of  extensive  dimensions,  exhibiting  a  variety  of  archi- 
tecture, from  the  various  modifications  it  had  undergone  in  pass- 
ing through  a  long  line  of  possessors ;  who,  it  appeared,  had  not 
always  adapted  their  amendments  to  the  original  character  of 
the  building.  But  though  uniformity  was  wanting,  and  its  lofty 
towers  had  dwindled  to  mere  turrets,  and  its  old  fortress  to 
mutilated  crumbling  stones,  so  as  to  make  the  name  of  castle  a 
sort  of  misnomer,  it  had  so  striking  a  cast  of  reverend  age  about 
it  as  to  give  dignity  to  its  decay,  and  render  it  captivating  to  the 
taste  of  the  beholder,  and  dear  to  the  hearts  of  the  numerous 
peasantry  of  the  demesne,  who  vied  with  each  other  in  rehears- 
ing legends  of  its  former  exploits  and  its  ancient  honours. 

Our  extensive  park,  rich  in  large  and  lofty  trees,  was  an 
appropriate  accessory  to  the  castle  and  its  luxuriant  gardens.  In 
the  latter,  owing  to  the  mild  climate  of  the  south  of  Ireland, 
both  flowers  and  fruits  of  the  tenderest  kinds  flourished  in  the 
open  air. 

The  traditions  of  our  locality  were  as  numerous  as  the  birds 


JESUIT   EXECUTOESHIP.  5 

that  in  summer  months  sang  in  its  woods.  As  children,  both 
my  sisters  and  myself  were  not  only  infected  with  this  lore,  but 
deep  in  its  mysteries.  It  was,  indeed,  a  source  of  perennial 
pleasure  to  us.  We  believed  in  fairies,  and  other  similar  beings, 
who  participated  with  us  the  occupation  of  the  castle,  and 
glided,  side  by  side,  with  us  over  the  mountain  tops,  or  through 
the  silent  glens  of  our  wide  domain.  We  were  thus  familiarized, 
as  it  were,  with  invisible  things,  and  learned  to  recognise  every- 
where, sometimes  with  fluttering  hearts,  existences  discernible 
only  by  the  imaginative  or  superstitious. 

Our  house  had  its  haunted  apartments,  and  I  never  crossed  its 
spacious  gothic  hall,  lighted  but  by  a  single  lamp,  on  a  winter's 
evening,  but  with  a  breathlessness  not  to  be  forgotten. 

The  mounting  of  the  wide  staircase  was  a  still  greater  trial  of 
fortitude,  for  there  life-size  saints  and  heroes  stood  in  niches  on 
its  landings ;  and  painted  windows  sometimes  imparted  appalling 
hues  to  the  moonbeams  that  lit  up  their  marble  forms. 

But  even  terror,  if  not  intense,  has  charms  for  the  volatile  and 
wonder-loving  nature  of  childhood  ;  and  as  I  recall  the  fleeting 
emotions — half-painful,  half-pleasurable — inspired  by  its  fancies 
and  its  fears,  I  feel  a  fondness  for  their  memory,  and  a  regret  for 
the  transitoriness  of  their  existence.  Charming  chimeras ! 
whither  have  ye  all  flown  ?  Have  ye  no  aifinity  with  the  care- 
worn heart?  no  mission  from  your  dreamy  world  to  a  soul  bat- 
tling with  the  iron  realities  of  life  ? 

My  father's  fortune  was  large,  his  servants  numerous,  and  tho 
hangers-on  of  the  family  innumerable.  In  addition  to  these 
were  many  peasant  and  pauper  families,  who,  though  not  located 
within  the  limits  of  his  domain,  claimed  and  received  from  his 
bounty  a  constant  supply  of  their  ever-increasing  wants. 

As  such  charities  had  been,  time  immemorial,  amongst  the 
usages  of  the  house,  my  father  considered  them  as  indispensa- 
ble ;  and  their  curtailment  was  never  thought  of,  although  the 
growing  indolence  of  their  recipients  increased  with  the  amount 
of  his  gifts. 

There  were  also  other  drains  on  my  father's  revenues,  quite  as 
exhausting  as  those  of  charity.  Of  their  united  effects  I  shall 
have  occasion  to  speak  hereafter. 


6  HELEN    MULGRAVE  J    OR, 

"We  had  an  old  woman  in  the  house,  for  many  years,  who  had 
been  my  father's  foster-mother.  Her  daughter,  a  remarkable 
character,  even  in  childhood,  had  extorted  from  her  foster-bro- 
ther an  education  at  a  boarding-school,  far  superior  to  her  condi- 
tion, which  had  placed  her  in  so  false  a  position  with  all  around 
her,  as  to  make  her,  on  her  return  to  her  mother  at  the  comple- 
tion of  it,  the  torment  of  the  house.  It  became,  at  length, 
necessary  for  the  peace  of  the  subordinate  part  of  the  household, 
to  eject  both  her  and  her  mother. 

They  were  placed  in  a  small  cottage  alloted  them  by  my 
father,  about  four  or  five  miles  distant  from  the  castle,  just  with- 
out the  boundary  of  the  park. 

For  some  years  after  this,  the  juvenile  part  of  our  houshold, 
at  least,  lost  sight  of  them.  Meanwhile,  they  became  a  greater 
torment  than  ever  to  my  father,  upon  whose  generous  disposi- 
tion they  well  knew  how  to  play.  But  of  them  no  more  at  pre- 
sent. 

My  father  was  a  man  who  possessed  a  thousand  fine  and 
interesting  qualities,  besides  the  unbounded  benevolence  of  which 
I  have  spoken.  He  was  not  one  of  those  boisterous  country 
gentlemen,  who  are  distinguished  from  the  rustics  around  them 
by  nothing  but  their  superior  garb  and  their  despotic  manners  ; 
for,  though  he  relished  field-sports,  and  loved  the  simplicity  of  a 
country  life,  he  was  a  polished  gentleman. 

He  possessed  sterling  integrity;  and  the  lofty  tone  of  his 
morals  gave  dignity  even  to  the  carriage  of  his  person.  A 
deeply-rooted  principle  of  duty,  which  never  allowed  inclination 
to  triumph  over  it,  except  in  one  single,  though  fatal  point — 
expenditure — was  the  pervading  spirit  of  his  life ;  while  high  and 
generous  feeling,  amounting  almost  to  the  romantic,  shed  a  bril- 
liancy over  his  manners  that  rendered  him  captivating  and  irre- 
sistible, both  in  public  and  in  private  life. 

He  was  accustomed  to  enter,  with  the  ardour  and  the  relish 
of  youth,  into  the  occupations  and  pursuits  of  his  children,  tak- 
ing the  lead  in  their  amusements,-  and  superintending  their  stu- 
dies. How  could  they  help  doting  on  such  a  father  ?  He  was  at 
once  the  head  and  the  idol  of  the  house. 

My  mother's  character  was  one  of  harmony  and  sweetness. 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  7 

Without  possessing  any  brilliant  qualities,  the  equanimity  of  her 
temper,  and  the  consistency  of  her  deportment,  rendered  her  as 
much  an  object  of  attachment  in  her  own  sphere  as  my  father 
was  in  his.  She  possessed  both  cultivation  and  taste,  but  she 
entertained  so  exalted  an  opinion  of  her  husband,  that  it  was 
her  pleasure  to  yield  to  him  every  questioned  point ;  so  that  her 
wishes  and  her  will  seemed  ever  in  unison  with  his. 

My  sisters  and  I  had  for  some  years  been  under  the  tuition  of 
an  English  governess,  a  Miss  White,  who  had  been  educated  in  a 
convent  in  France,  and  was  considered  highly  accomplished  in 
'  French,  music,  dancing,  and  drawing.' 

My  brother's  tutor,  who  was  also  English,  was  a  Mr.  Rivers, 
who,  unusual  as  it  may  seem  in  a  Catholic  family,  was  a  Protest- 
ant, and  an  M.A.  of  Oxford.  It  was  part  of  his  duty  to  assist 
Miss  White  in  instructing  my  sisters  and  myself  in  the  solid 
parts  of  our  education. 

During  the  winter  we  lived  as  a  family,  very  much  apart  from 
the  society  of  our  neighbourhood,  owing  to  there  being  but  few 
residents  of  our  church  and  class  within  visiting  distance. 

The  tenor  of  our  life,  at  this  season,  was  therefore  uniform, 
but  never  dull.  My  sisters  and  myself  had  been  early  trained  to 
horsemanship,  and  we  rode  constantly,  and  became  so  much 
inured  to  the  vicissitudes  of  weather  as  not  to  be  affected  by 
them. 

We  partook,  with  my  father  and  brother,  of  every  out-door 
amusement,  except  the  chase.  Sometimes  we  skated  on  waters 
found  on  the  summits  of  the  neighbouring  mountains,  or  chased 
each  other  up  their  rocky  acclivities  with  the  swiftness  of  deer. 
When  the  weather  was  too  severe  to  be  braved,  we  had 
resources  within  doors  which  kept  us  always  occupied. 

Not  the  least  of  these  was  music,  for  which  some  of  us  had  a 
decided  talent,  and  which,  cultivated  by  Miss  White,  might  have 
enabled  us  to  attain  excellence.  But  our  ambition,  in  this  par- 
ticular, did  not  lead  us  to  do  more  than  just  enough  to  satisfy 
our  parents  and  amuse  ourselves.  Large  and  echoing  apartments 
reverberated  our  duets  and  trios,  while  their  columned  recesses 
gave  back  our  choruses  in  redoubled  sound.  Not  unfrequently 
we  passed  from  music  to  dancing ;  then 


8  HELEN    MULGRAVE  |    OR, 

Chased  the  slipper  by  the  sound, 

Or  turn'd  the  blindfold  hero  round  and  round. 

Had  all  this  failed,  by  repetition,  to  keep  ennui  out  of  our  cir- 
cle, we  had  still  another  and  different  excitement,  in  the  dis.-eu- 
sions  which  occasionally  occurred  betwixt  our  governess  and 
tutor,  in  the  school-room,  on  the  most  important  of  all  subjects, 
— religion. 

I  do  not  mean  to  insinuate  that  their  discussions  on  this  point 
extended  their  influence  to  the  general  household,  although  they 
frequently  disturbed  the  drawing-room. 

Mr.  Rivers  was  a  learned  and  conscientious  Protestant, 
between  thirty  and  forty,  much  valued  in  our  family  for  his 
gentlemanly,  consistent,  and  un-proselyting  deportment. 

He  knew  well  that  the  priest,  who  resided  in  the  family,  was 
the  teacher  of  its  religion  ;  and  therefore  never  meddled  with 
what  belonged  exclusively  to  his  department.  But  while  he 
was  rigidly  negative  on  this  point,  he  was  scrupulous  in  avoid- 
ing all  conformity  to  our  faith  and  forms.  Nevertheless,  his 
sense  of  duty  to  the  office  he  held,  as  tutor  to  the  heir  of  a 
Catholic  family,  induced  him  to  abstain  from  adopting  any  course 
of  reading  with  him,  on  any  subject  how  remotely  so  ever  con- 
nected with  religion,  until  he  had  submitted  it  to  my  father. 

He  was  equally  exact  in  his  choice  of  books  for  my  sisters  and 
myself;  which,  however,  were  always  objected  to  by  Miss  White, 
whatever  they  might  be. 

But  having  once  obtained  my  father's  sanction  to  those  of  his 
choice,  Mr.  Rivers  strictly  defended  their  adoption. 

Miss  "White,  who,  as  a  rigid  Catholic,  was  very  much  confined 
in  her  acquaintance  with  literature,  considered  that  a  general 
knowledge,  or  even  a  smattering  of  it,  was  but  a  burden  to  the 
female  mind,  or  a  temptation  to  pursuits  which  might  lead  a 
woman  out  of  the  sphere  of  her  duties.  She  therefore  repro- 
bated the  idea  of  a  young  lady's  poring  over  folios  or  quartos, 
as  she  was  pleased  to  call  all  books  larger  than  a  small  octavo, 
winch  had  not  been  sanctioned  by  the  household  priest,  whom 
she  considered  as  the  church's  exponent  of  what  ought  to  be 
our  intellectual,  as  well  as  our  moral  and  religious  training. 

In  reading  general  history,  therefore,  she  took  no  part  with 


JESUIT   EXECCTORSHIP.  9 

us ;  and  ecclesiastical  history  she  considered  as  intolerable,  as  it 
caused  us  to  ask  questions  not  only  repugnant  to  her  faith,  but 
beyond  the  sphere  of  her  information. 

Mr.  Rivers  never  argued  with  her  on  a  settled  point,  yet  he 
patiently  listened  to  her  oft-repeated  objections  to  his  plans,  and 
when  new  ones  were  made,  stated  them  to  my  father ;  while  she 
appealed  to  my  mother,  who,  on  her  part,  referred  them  again 
to  my  father,  whose  decision  she  never  attempted  to  influ- 
ence. 

My  father  was  a  man  of  varied  information,  who,  being  natu- 
rally humane  and  benevolent,  could  not  entertain  with  any 
degree  of  heartiness  the  exclusive  and  intolerant  principles  of 
Komanism.  He  was  therefore  perpetually  sinning  against  its 
spirit,  and  ever  breaking  through  the  trammels  which  circum- 
scribed his  social  feelings,  although,  for  the  sake  of  external  con- 
sistency, as  the  head  of  a  family,  he  adhered  to  the  forms  of  his 
hereditary  faith. 

This  dubiousness  of  mind  rendered  him  indifferent,  where  he 
would  otherwise  have  been  zealous,  and  caused  him  to  leave  his 
children  to  the  chance  training  of  antagonist  teachers,  without 
inquiring  into  the  j>robable  consequences  of  such  a  course  on 
their  religious  belief,  or  into  the  fitness  or  unfitness  of  his  here- 
ditary faith  for  promoting  the  interests  of  an  immortal  life.  His 
entire  freedom,  however,  from  the  intolerance  of  his  church 
was,  no  doubt,  of  immense  importance  to  his  children,  as  the 
liberty  which  it  afforded  to  them  in  their  first  crude  efforts  of 
thought,  as  well  as  in  their  expression  of  it,  must  have  greatly 
aided  the  development  of  those  faculties  which  it  is  so  much  the 
object  of  education  to  unfold.  My  father  allowed  himself  to 
read  argumentative  works,  and  even  bitter  censures,  on  the 
practices  of  his  church,  the  spirit  of  which  would  sometimes 
show  itself  in  his  conversation ;  so  that  whatever  reverence 
might  have  been  enjoined  by  Miss  White,  or  the  priest,  for  cer- 
tain forms  imposed  on  us,  was  undermined,  if  not  destroyed,  by 
my  father's  wit,  in  descanting  on  their  absurdity.  With  a  laxity 
of  feeling  towards  his  church  such  as  this,  my  father  no  doubt 
felt  it  difficult  to  maintain  consistency  in  the  control  he  was 
disposed  to  exercise  over  his  children's  education. 

1* 


10  HELEN   MULGRAVE  }    OR, 

But  as  he  became  more  acquainted  with  Mr.  Rivers,  his  con- 
fidence in  his  good  taste,  as  well  as  in  his  integrity,  induced  him 
to  place  in  his  hands  an  unlimited  discretion  in  the  choice  of  our 
books,  with  one  exception :  that  exception  was  the  Bible.  He 
was,  he  remarked,  in  the  habit  of  reading  this  sacred  book  him- 
self; but  it  was  too  strictly  forbidden  by  the  church  for  him  -to 
venture  on  the  open  use  of  it,  by  allowing  it  to  his  children. 

It  was  impossible  for  Miss  White  to  acquiesce  in  an  arrange- 
ment which  placed  so  much  power  in  Mr.  Rivers'  hands  without 
an  attempt  to  neutralize  it,  which  she  endeavoured  to  do,  by 
proposing  that  the  priest  should  have  a  .veto  in  the  selection  of 
our  books.  Her  effort  was  vain;  and  we  were  thenceforth 
amply  supplied  with  books  of  Mr.  Rivers'  choice. 

My  second  sister,  Caroline,  was  Miss  White's  favourite  pupil, 
her  cast  of  character  and  her  peculiar  tastes  alike  rendering  her 
an  easy  prey  to  the  superstitions  of  onr  church  and  the  bigotry 
of  our  governess.  Caroline  was  continually  being  held  up  to 
Dora,  the  elder  of  our  trio,  and  myself  as  our  model  in  all  things, 
but  especially  in  the  negations  of  her  mind,  and  acquirements  ; 
while  she  herself,  naturally  kind  and  diffident,  shrank  from  the 
priority  thus  forced  on  her,  and  only  caressed  us  the  more  when 
Miss  White  censured  us  by  comparisons  with  herself.  So  that 
although  our  intercourses  of  thought  with  her  were  somewhat 
restricted  by  her  limited  range  of  mind  and  pursuits,  our  sisterly 
affection  was  never  impaired  by  it. 

My  brother,  named  after  my  father,  William,  was  a  very 
eccentric  character,  who,  with  a  less  efficient  tutor  than  Mr.- 
Rivers,  must  have  passed  through  the  period  of  youth  without 
even  ordinary  acquirements.  As  it  was,  those  he  had  made 
were  much  below  par,  and  his  tastes  unsuitable  to  his  position. 
Although  every  allowable  gratification  was  afforded  him  in  the 
domestic  circle,  his  inclination  led  him  to  the  society  of  the 
stable  rather  than  to  that  of  the  drawing-room.  My  father's 
anxieties  respecting  him  were  endless ;  and  he  wearied  himself 
in  vain  to  discover  in  him  any  bias  of  mind  that  might  be  train- 
ed to  his  advantage. 

My  father's  brother,  the  bishop,  who  lived  about  twenty 
miles  from  us,  was  a  frequent  visitor  at  our  house.  He  was  a 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  11 

tall  man,  of  a  dignified  deportment,  ordinarily  reserved  and 
meditative;  but  a  vigilant  observer  of  all  that  was  passing 
around  him. 

He  was  fond  of  the  style  and  gaiety  of  my  father's  house,  and 
on  particular  occasions,  when  distinguished  guests  were  there,  he 
regaled  us  with  a  full  display  of  the  pomp  of  the  diocesan.  At 
such  times,  I  always  felt  afraid  jf  him ;  but  when  he  chose  to 
come  to  us  in  a  private  capacity,  with  a  single  servant,  and 
without  the  parade  which  he  thought  necessary  at  other  times, 
he  demeaned  himself  with  so  much  kindness  and  familiarity, 
that  we  forgot  the  bishop  in  the  affectionate  uncle. 

It  was  not  often  that  he  seemed  enough  at  ease  to  make  him- 
self agreeable ;  for  his  spirit  was  restless,  and  although  the  dis- 
tinction which  the  mitre  had  conferred  on  him  was  immeasur- 
ably gratifying,  he  was  galled,  like  all  his  spiritual  brethren  of 
his  rank,  at  not  being  invested,  by  society  at  large,  with  the 
titular  honours  of  his  position. 

The  disturbed  state  of  the  Catholic  mind  throughout  the 
country,  at  that  period,  no  doubt  contributed  to  increase  my 
uncle's  irritation  under  his  own  peculiar  privations,  and  to  ren- 
der him  a  stern  claimant. for  the  removal  of  those  disabilities 
which  limited  his  ambition  and  restricted  the  exercise  of  his 
zeal.  The  discussions  that  sometimes  arose  at  my  father's  table 
on  this  subject  were  not  always  conducted  with  moderation, 
especially  if  carried  on  with  a  Protestant  disputant. 

Mr.  Rivers  was  an  acute  reasoner,  but  he  never  allowed  him- 
self to  be  drawn  out  in  opposition  to  my  uncle,  if  it  was  at  all 
avoidable ;  as  there  existed  between  them  a  coldness,  amounting 
almost  to  antipathy. 

On  the  part  of  my  uncle,  this  might  have  been  caused  by  Mr. 
Rivers'  omission,  when  addressing  him,  of  the  titles,  which  he 
himself  considered  due  to  him.  Or,  it  might  have  been  owing 
to  the  exclusive  spirit  of  his  own  religious  creed,  as  the  very 
name  of  Protestant  was  repugnant  to  him ;  and  he  sometimes 
even  descended  to  vent  the  bitterness  of  his  dislike  to  it  in 
denunciations  little  short  of  anathemas.  My  father,  who  was 
mischievously  fond  of  an  extravagance  that  was  ridiculous, 
would  on  such  occasions  slily  prompt  the  assailant  to  the  very 


12  HELEN  MULGBAVE;  OR, 

verge  of  danger,  and  then  step  in,  at  the  critical  moment,  to 
prevent  a  catastrophe. 

Of  my  father's  habitual  licence  in  expressing  opinions  not  in 
accordance  with  our  church,  my  uncle  never  appeared  to  take 
any  notice ;  neither  did  he  seem  at  all  cognizant  of  what  I  may 
call  a  singular  omission  of  duty  in  our  household  priest,  in  not 
requiring  the  younger  branches  of  the  family  occasionally  to 
attend  the  confessional. 

Miss  White  made  it  a  subject  of  constant  remonstrance  with 
us ;  but  as  neither  my  father  nor  the  priest  had  ever  exhorted 
us  to  it,  after  the  event  of  our  first  communion,  we  continued  to 
live  without  even  any  precise  idea  of  what  were  the  ordinary 
requirements  of  the  confessional. 

Reflecting  on  this  anomaly  at  this  distance  of  time,  I  attribute 
it  to  the  extreme  anxiety  of  my  father  to  keep  our  minds  as 
long  as  possible  hi  a  state  of  purity ;  and  from  the  same  cause  we 
were  never  put  in  possession  of  any  of  those  Komish  Manuals  of 
Devotion,  or  Daily  Companions,  which  are  provided,  as  it  would 
seem,  to  initiate  the  young  in  a  knowledge  of  every  possible 
sin. 

The  usual  system  of  domestic  tuition  amongst  Roman  Catho- 
lics is  unfavourable  to  the  development  of  the  intellect,  and 
still  more  so  to  the  moral  powers ;  everything  offered  to  the 
mind  being  presented  under  false  aspects,  or  in  such  mutilated 
or  fragmentary  portions  as  to  mock  and  deteriorate  the  faculties 
they  pretend  to  improve. 

As  to  our  religious  training,  if  the  expression  be  not  a  misno- 
mer, it  prepared  us  for  nothing  but  an  aptitude  in  performing 
aves,  reciting  pater-nosters,  or  carefully  counting  the  beads  of 
our  rosaries. 

Beyond  what  is  implied  in  these  requirements,  and  the  inces- 
sant commands  of  the  priest  to  '  pay  all  homage  to  the  Virgin,' 
we  were  taught  nothing  of  God. 

Neither  Miss  White's  manners,  nor  the  spirit  of  her  counsels, 
invited  to  confidence.  Yet  I  sometimes  spoke  to  her  of  what  I 
felt  to  be  the  emptiness  of  my  religious  acquirements,  and  their 
insufficiency  to  satisfy  the  longings  of  the  soul.  Sometimes  she 
laughed  at  my  complaints ;  at  others,  when  in  a  captious  mood, 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHII-.  13 

she  would  say  she  wondered  that  something  much  worse  had 
not  happened  to  me,  since  I  never  relieved  my  heart  of  its  trans- 
gressions by  confession  to  the  priest. 

After  some  time,  as  this  sarcasm  had  been  often  repeated,  it 
led  to  distrust  and  self-reproach,  and  I  mentioned  the  subject  to 
my  father,  who  said  he  would  consider  of  it. 

Had  that  prohibited  book,  which  my  father  had  not  nerve 
enough  to  bestow  on  us  in  defiance  of  his  church,  been  at  this 
time  permitted  to  me,  I  should  have  learnt  from  its  pages  the 
requirements  of  its  Divine  author,  and  rested  in  hope  on  its 
blessed  provisions  for  time  and  eternity.  They  who  have  been 
in  childhood  carefully  instructed  in  a  knowledge  of  this  book, 
can  form  no  idea  of  the  vacuum  which  unacquaintance  with  its 
revelations  leaves  in  an  otherwise  instructed  mind.  Wherever 
it  is  prohibited,  there  ought  also,  in  common  mercy,  to  be  a  pro- 
hibition of  other  books ;  for  reading,  as  it  exercises  the  faculties, 
leads  to  a  knowledge  of  ourselves,  and  the  wants  of  our  nature, 
which  is  ever  panting  after  some  undefined  good,  that  it  never 
attains  until  it  acquaints  itself  with  God,  and  is  at  peace  with 
Him. 

When  my  father  again  spoke  to  me  of  confession,  he  expressed 
surprise  at  what  I  could  have  to  confess.  '  So  good  a  little  girl 
as  you,  Helen,  ought  not  to  have  any  cause  for  confess  ion.' 

'  But  I  am  unhappy,  papa !' 

'  Unhappy,  my  child !  Do  not  let  me  hear  such  words  again. 
You  must  be  jesting!' 

'  No,  papa.' 

'  Come,  then,  confess  to  me.  I  will  undertake  to  advise  you, 
instead  of  the  good  father,  who  I  am  sure  could  not  understand 
your  little  heart  as  well  as  I  can.' 

'Ah,  dear  papa!  perhaps  I  am  unlike  other  people.  I  have 
fancies  and  forgetfulnesses  which  distress  me.  My  pater-nosters 
do  not  interest  me,  and  I  often  unintentionally  omit  them ;  and 
when  I  am  addressing  salutations  to  the  Virgin,  I  want  to  know 
why  I  should  do  so.  This  is  my  confession,  papa.  And  now 
that  I  have  made  it  to  yon,  you,  perhaps,  can  tell  me  what 
penances  I  ought  to  perform,  to  relieve  myself  of  that  sense  of 
wrong  which  depresses  my  spirits.' 


14  HELEN  MULORAVE;  OB, 

My  father  did  not  reply  instantly,  but  took  several  turns  in  the 
room  before  he  said, — 

'  Nelly,  my  love,  a  sceptical  turn  of  mind  is  a  fearful  evil  in 
the  female  character,  and  especially  in  a  young  heart.  I  am 
afraid  I  must  make  you  over  to  the  good  priest,  after  all,  lest  I 
should  add  to  the  wrong  I  have  already  committed,  in  allowing 
you  an  enlightenment  of  mind  incompatible  with  the  passive 
faith  required  of  you  by  the  church.  I  will  speak  to  the  priest, 
Nelly,  and  tell  him  to  think  of  you  only  as  an  innocent,  but 
rather  wayward  child,  who,  seeing  something  beyond  its  reach 
— the  moon,  for  instance — cries  to  obtain  it.' 

Although  my  father  said  this  in  the  most  playful  manner  ima- 
ginable, I  was  so  much  hurt  at  having  opened  my  heart  in  vain, 
since  I  had  not  made  him  sensible  of  the  reality  of  my  distress, 
that  I  burst  into  tears. 

He  took  me  in  his  arms,  and  caressed  me  tenderly,  until  a  tap 
at  the  door  of  the  room  impelled  me  hastily  to  repress  my 
tears.  My  mother  entered. 

'  My  dear  Dora,'  said  my  father,  '  here  is  a  penitent  child  of 
yours,  who  accuses  herself  of  wrong  without  having  erred,  and 
would  fain  receive  chastisement  without  deserving  it.  Take 
her  into  your  own  keeping,  and  instruct  her  in  her  duty  to 
herself.' 

Although  left  alone  with  my  mother,  being  fully  aware  of  her 
repugnance  to  speak  at  all  on  the  subject  of  religion,  I  could  not 
find  courage  to  open  my  heart  to  her  as  I  had  done  to  my  father  ; 
and  I  stood  in  silence,  awaiting  her  inquiries. 

But  as  if  she  had  known  what  was  passing  in  my  mind,  she 
said — 

'  I  fear,  my  love,  I  should  prove  but  a  poor  adviser  to  you. 
Had  you  not  better  consult  Father  Ossory  ?" 

I  thankfully  replied, — '  Certainly,  mamma,  if  you  wish  me  ;' 
and  escaped  hastily  from  her  presence. 


JESUIT   EXECUTOftSHIP.  15 


CHAPTER  II. 

Where  there  is  strength  of  understanding,  the  mind  can  never  long  remain  in  a  nega 
live  state ;  that  is,  it  cannot  continue  in  not  comprehending,  in  not  believing,  and  yet  in 
tolerating,  what  it  disdains.— DE  STAEL. 

MY  father's  manner  of  living  was  a  perfect  specimen  of  that 
hospitality  of  past  times,  which  is  now  scarcely  to  be  met  with 
anywhere,  and  rendered  his  house  a  place  of  chosen  resort  to 
numerous  friends  and  relations,  as  well  as  to  many  incidental 
visitors,  who,  in  summer  months,  were  attracted  to  our  neigh- 
bourhood by  the  far-famed  beauties  of  its  Lakes. 

It  often  happened,  during  three  or  four  of  the  summer  months, 
that  the  number  of  our  guests  daily  amounted  to  fifteen  or  twenty 
persons. 

As  school-girls  who  had  daily  indispensable  duties  to  perform, 
my  sisters  and  myself  saw  but  little  of  these  guests,  although  we 
sometimes  joined  them  in  the  drawing-room  after  dinner.  But 
the  few  hours  then  passed  amongst  strangers  of  various  appear- 
ance and  opinions,  became  a  source  of  information  and  improve- 
ment inconceivably  gratifying  to  our  whole  trio.  The  faces  wo 
scanned,  the  remarks  we  heard,  and  the  manners  we  criticised, 
constantly  furnished  us  with  new  ideas,  and  endless  subjects  of 
remark  amongst  ourselves,  in  our  own  room. 

For  two  years  after  this,  the  affairs  of  our  family  went  on  as 
heretofore;  guests  and  gaiety  in  summer,  and  quiet  domestic 
life,  with  the  customary  out-door  exercises,  in  the  other  seasons 
of  the  year. 

We  had  reached  July,  1815.  My  brother,  the  elder  of  the 
family,  was  within  eighteen  months  of  his  majority,  to  which  we 
were  all  looking  forward,  as  to  an  epoch  in  our  family  history. 

My  sister 'Dora  was  eighteen,  Caroline  seventeen,  and  myself 
nearly  sixteen. 

The  whole  of  Europe,  during  the  greater  part  of  this  eventful 
year,  was  kept  in  unceasing  agitation  by  the  overturnings  of 


16  HELEN    MULGRAVE  ;    OR, 

kingdoms,  and  shiftings  of  crowns,  consequent  on  the  return  of 
Bonaparte  from  Elba. 

It  was  not  until  this  period,  that  my  sisters  and  myself  were 
allowed  to  read  newspapers. 

What  living,  animating  creatures,  did  we  find  these  to  be! 
Their  records  of  contemporary  persons  and  occurrences  were  of 
surpassing  interest,  and  we  began  very  soon  to  feel  that  we 
belonged  to  a  real  world,  and  that  we  had  a  real  part  to  perform 
in  it.  We  seemed  to  have  attained  at  once  the  power  of  discern- 
ing '  good  and  evil.1  .  With  Avhat  eager  interest  did  we  run  over 
their  long  columns  of  many-coloured  thought  and  fact — from 
great  to  little,  and  from  grave  to  gay.  On  another  page,  its 
several  advertisements,  disclosing  so  many  wants,  and  offering 
so  many  boons,  betrayed  the  private  embarrassments,  or  the  sor- 
did schemes  of  adventurers  on  social  sympathy  or  inexperienced 
credulity.  With  what  insinuating  courtesy  does  one  petitioner 
ask  for  the  reader's  purse,  and  another  for  his  patronage,  until 
the  heart  of  the  young  novice  aches,  and  deplores  his  incompe- 
tency  to  comply  with  such  painful  and  urgent  requests.  All  this, 
and  much  more  than  this,  came  daily  on  its  broad  sheet  from  the 
great  metropolis  to  our  remote  abode,  to  supply  the  awakened 
intellects  and  satisfy  the  ardent  curiosity  of  its  charmed  and 
enthusiastic  readers. 

The  two  years  just  passed  had  done  much  towards  suppress- 
ing my  complaints  of  the  meagre  information  imparted  to  me  on 
religious  subjects.  I  had  been  disciplined  by  the  priest  and  the 
governess  into  complete  subjection  to  the  externals  of  our  faith, 
which  I  had  learned  to  practise  with  unremitting  effort,  although 
without  deriving  any  satisfaction  from  the  performance. 

My  father,  alarmed  at  what  he  had  deemed  the  sceptical  ten- 
dency of  my  mind,  and  which  he,  influenced  by  Miss  White,  had 
attributed  to  the  '  folios  and  quartos '  in  such  young  hands — with 
more  meaning  than  his  jest  implied,  exclaimed,  with  Festus, 
'Much  learning  doth  make  thee  mad!'  Our  reading  had  there- 
fore been  restricted,  and  the  library  became  a  prohibited  resort, 
for  which  the  confessional  formed  a  substitute,  and  was  pressed 
on  us  with  a  frequency  which  seemed  intended  to  repair  the  loss 
sustained  by  former  omissions. 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.        .  lY 

On  my  own  part,  it  was  only  submitted  to  as  a  duty  not  to  be 
evaded.  And  now,  after  years  of  experience  and  reflection  on 
this  essential  part  of  the  Romish  system,  I  am  convinced  that 
the  confessional,  as  ordinarily  used,  is  the  very  nursery  of  sin, 
and  one  of  the  great  engines  of  Satan  for  the  destruction  of  the 
soul.  That  my  sisters  and  myself  escaped  its  depravity  and  its 
pollutions,  was  owing  not  only  to  my  father's  influence  with  our 
household  priest,  but  also  to  the  personal  character  of  Father 
Ossory  himself. 

He  was  a  man  who,  at  this  distance  of  time  and  with  essen- 
tially altered  views  both  of  lus  church  and  his  office,  I  designate 
a  man  of  purity  and  of  goodness,  so  far  as  these  qualities  can 
exist  founded  on  unscriptural  views  of  religious  truth. 

Of  Father  Ossory,  in  the  latter  part  of  his  life,  I  shall,  hereaf- 
ter, be  able  to  speak  as  of  one  whom  the  '  truth  had  made  free ;' 
and  to  whom  it  was  given  to  know  '  the  mysteries  of  the  king- 
dom of  God.' 

It  appears  to  me  that  it  can  only  be  in  ignorance  or  in  over- 
sight that  any  honest  or  intelligent  mind  can  teach  the  demora- 
lizing practices,  the  absurd  deceits,  and  the  criminal  intolerance 
of  the  Romish  church.  That  it  is  possible  to  have  been  born  in 
that  church,  and  to  live  in  ignorance  of  its  essential  nature  and 
doctrines,  under  the  direction  of  a  skilful  or  harmless  priest,  my 
dear  mother  was  one  of  many  thousand  instances. 

My  sister  Dora  had  a  keen  perception  of  the  absurdity  of  some 
of  the  tenets  she  was  taught,  but  she  discerned  only  their 
absurdity.  She  saw  not  the  intolerance  of  her  church,  for  it  had 
never  been  unveiled  to  her — and  she  knew  nothing  of  its  immo- 
ralities, because  they  had  been  carefully  hidden  from  her.  I 
may  make  the  same  remark  of  Caroline  and  myself;  with  this 
difference,  "that,  owing  to  certain  gleams  of  light  which  broke 
occasionally  on  the  darkness  of  my  own  mind,  I  became  earlier 
aware  of  some  deplorable  deficiency,  of  which  I  saw  neither  the 
cause  nor  the  extent,  in  the  teaching  which  I  received. 

The  contempt  I  sometimes  felt  for  the  empty  forms  of  duty 
imposed  on  me,  produced  indifference  to  the  performance  of 
them  ;  for  the  sin  of  which  I  wept  and  humbled  myself,  without 
applying  to  the  priest.  But  I  had  it  all  to  go  over  again  in  the 


18  HELEN  MULGRAVE;  OR, 

confessional,  where  penance — not  repentance — was  the  absolving 
condition  of  pardon,  from  him  who  was  the  dispenser,  in  his 
own  name,  of  that  which  is  solely  the  gift  of  God. 

How  could  peace  dwell  in  the  mind  thus  at  war  with  its  own 
perceptions  of  what  was  rational,  and  with  its  aspirations  after 
what  was  imaged  in  the  depths  of  the  soul  as  the  only  '  high 
and  lofty  One,'  to  whom  its  homage  should  be  paid? 

Time  was  when  I  had  been  permitted  to  'sit  deep  in  volumes;' 
and  although  that  time  was  short,  I  had  plucked  from  it  immor- 
tal fruit,  which  had  opened  my  eyes  to  things  beyond  the  ken  of 
sense. 

When  the  light  of  books  was  withdrawn,  I  learnt  to  listen,  as 
I  did  not  read;  for  though  the  spirit  of  inquiry  had  been 
silenced,  it  was  impossible  that  I  could  wholly  suppress  the  aspi- 
rations which  still  occasionally  swelled  my  heart.  My  father's 
lightest  thoughts — uttered  in  dinner  talk,  or  Mr.  Eivers'  tempe- 
rate refutation  of  the  bishop's  dogmas — alternately  kindled  and 
quenched  the  habitual  longing  of  my  soul  for  the  knowledge  which 
had  been  placed  out  of  my  reach  by  the  prohibition  of  books. 

A  note,  which  was  brought  by  a  foreign  servant,  one  fine 
morning  in  August,  and  which  was  instantly  handed  round  our 
private  circle,  became  in  its  consequences,  of  immense  import- 
ance to  my  after  life.  It  was  from  my  Aunt  Mulgrave,  introduc- 
ing to  my  father  a  young  French  marquis,  who  had  been  for 
some  weeks  her  own  guest.  The  note  was  inclosed  in  one  from 
the  marquis,  acquainting  my  father  that  he  intended  himself  the 
honour  of  paying  his  personal  respects  to  him  on  the  following 
day.  Almost  at  the  same  moment,  a  letter  was  brought  from 
my  aunt,  by  post,  apologizing  to  my  father  for  intruding  on  him 
an  additional  guest,  at  a  season  when  she  knew  his  house  to  be 
always  full. 

'  But  you  will,  I  am  sure,'  she  wrote,  '  pardon  me,  when  you 
see  my  young  friend,  who,  besides  his  personal  attractions,  is  at 
present  in  deep  grief  for  the  loss  of  his  mother,  an  intimate 
friend  of  mine,  very  lately  deceased.  Change  of  scene,  and  the 
mild  air  of  Ireland,  in  your  house,  cannot,  I  trust,  fail  to  recruit 
him,  although  his  depression  is  at  present  so  great  as  materially 
to  affect  his  health. 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSHIP.  19 

4  Were  he  not  a  Protestant,  as  well  as  myself,  how  much  could 
I  write  in  his  praise ;  and  how  certain  should  I  he  of  his  finding 
favour  with  your  whole  house.  As  he  is,  I  do  but  commend 
him  to  your  ordinary  courtesy:  which  I  know,  however,  will 
comprise,  as  it  always  does,  everything  that  is  benignant  and 
kind.' 

My  mother  was  charmed  with  my  aunt's  letter,  and  expressed 
great  interest  in  our  expected  visitor,  on  account  of  the  amia- 
bility indicated  by  a  deep  grief  for  the  loss  of  a  mother. 

The  bishop,  when  he  heard  of  the  expected  arrival  of  a  French 
Protestant,  was  visibly  disturbed ;  and  as  my  mother  continued 
to  speak  of  him  with  interest,  he  turned  short  round  on  her,  and 
said, — 

4  Do  you  know,  sister,  that  this  young  man,  with  whom  you 
sympathize  so  strongly,  is  not  only  a  Protestant,  but  an  apostate ; 
since,  as  a  Frenchman  of  rank,  he  must  have  been  born  in  the 
holy  Catholic  church?' 

My  mother  replied,  meekly,  that  she  had  no  particular  par- 
tiality for  a  Protestant,  as  such,  and  still  less  for  an  apostate, 
although  she  did  not  know  that  she  was  prohibited  from  interest- 
ing herself  in  the  welfare  of  an  amiable  man,  though  he  were  a 
Protestant.  'At  any  rate,'  she  added,  'my  sister's  introduction 
must  not  be  slighted.' 

'  Lady  Mulgrave,'  said  my  uncle,  in  a  slow  and  authoritative 
manner,  '  toleration  of  heretics,  under  any  circumstances,  is  a 
sin  of  the  deepest  dye,  in  one  who  has  been  born  in  the  true 
church,  and  by  the  help  of  the  blessed  Virgin  has  remained 
steadfast  to  it,  whose  laws  and  whose  denunciations  are  alike 
infallible.  I  have  no  natural  cruelty  about  my  disposition ;  but 
our  holy  religion  conquers  nature,  and  I  cannot  forbear  to  rejoice 
at  the  destruction  of  any  enemy  of  God,  let  me  find  him  where- 
soever I  may ;  for  so  our  Church  denominates  all  who  are  not 
within  her  pale,  whether  "  Greek  or  Jew,  bond  or  free."  ' 

My  aunt's  introduction  of  the  young  Marquis  de  Grammont 
had  disposed  us  all — except,  perhaps,  my  uncle — to  greet  him 
cordially  on  his  arrival.  But  after  having  seen  him,  we  were  at 
a  loss  to  express  the  kind  of  feeling  he  inspired.  His  fine  fea- 
tures and  figure,  although  striking,  were  so  much  surpassed  by 


20  HELEN    MULGRAVE ; 

the  grace  of  his  expression,  and  the  captivating  manner  of  his 
salutation,  that  no  ordinary  expression  of  approbation  could  do 
justice  to  the  impression  which  he  made  on  us.  '  But  he  is 
French,'  we  exclaimed,  and  that  accounts  for  both  his  ease  and 
his  grace.  Still,  there  was  something  more  than  French  about 
him.  There  were  lines  of  thought  and  traces  of  sorrow  on  his 
face,  and  in  his  almost  lustreless  eye,  penetrating  and  intelligent 
as  was  its  expression. 

He  was  about  twenty-five  years  of  age,  and  having  been  born 
in  the  most  disastrous  year  of  the  French  revolution,  had  been 
trained,  like  many  others  of  his  countrymen,  in  the  school  of 
vicissitude  and  adversity,  and  had  derived  from  its  severe  disci- 
pline that  extensive  knowledge  of  human  nature  and  of  the 
world  which,  while  it  places  a  young  man  in  advance  of  himself, 
unites  experience  with  youth,  and  gives  him,  in  the  intercourses 
of  life,  an  influence  peculiar  and  decided. 

At  the  time  of  the  Marquis  de  Grammont's  introduction  to  my 
father's  house,  he  was  in  possession  of  extensive  estates,  which 
had  been  for  the  greater  part  of  his  early  years  sequestered  from 
his  family. 

His  father  and  mother  were  both  dead,  and  he  was  without 
brother  or  sister.  When  he  was  sufficiently  acquainted  with  us 
to  speak  of  his  parents,  he  drew  many  tears  by  his  affecting  and 
impassioned  delineation  of  the  fine  qualities  which  they  had  dis- 
played, especially  his  mother,  in  the  varying  fortunes  of  their 
lives. 

I  had  always  been  accustomed,  as  the  younger  and  pet  child 
of  my  father,  to  sit  at  his  right  hand  at  dinner ;  and  as  Monsieur 
de  Grammont  handed  me  into  the  dining-room  on  the  first  day 
of  his  arrival,  my  father  beckoned  us  to  his  side. 

I  was  glad  to  find  the  heretic  marquis  at  so  great  a  distance 
from  the  bishop ;  who,  sitting  by  my  mother,  at  the  upper  end 
of  the  table,  was  eyeing  him  down  the  whole  length  of  it  with 
no  friendly  glance. 

My  father  was  an  experienced  and  an  animating  host,  and 
knew  how  to  draw  out  every  variety  of  character  around  him. 
On  this  occasion  I  was  happy  enough  to  hear  the  marquis  talk 
without  talking  myself. 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  21 

I  was,  indeed,  in  no  mood  for  conversation.  The  idea  that 
one  so  lately  doomed,  in  the  name  of  the  church,  to  endless 
misery  in  a  future  world,  was  sitting  hy  my  side,  filled  me  with 
the  most  poignant  sensations  of  regret  and  pity.  All  perception 
of  the  right  or  wrong  of  the  denunciation  was  heyond  my  ken. 
But  as  this  victim  of  the  church's  intolerance,  unconscious  of  the 
doom  that  had  been  pronounced  on  him,  conversed  frankly  with 
my  father,  I  could  not  but  discern  in  their  opinions  and  feelings 
something  of  kindred  sense  and  goodness.  I  longed  to  learn 
what  the  marquis  himself  could  say  in  defence  of  that  atrocious 
heresy  by  which  the  attribute  of  immortality,  bestowed  on  man 
by  the  Divine  Creator  for  the  highest  and  most  beneficent  pur- 
pose, became  to  him  an  eternal  woe. 

But  this  was  not  a  subject  that  could  be  introduced  in  such  a 
place,  even  had  I  felt  courage  enough  to  volunteer  a  thought  of 
any  kind  to  a  gentleman  so  much  a  stranger  to  me. 

As  the  ladies  rose  from  the  table,  Monsieur  de  Grammont  rose 
with  them,  and  having  conducted  me  to  the  drawing-room,  left 
me  there. 

Miss  "White  was  amongst  the  ladies,  and  very  soon  at  my  side, 
expressing  a  hope  that  the  handsome  Frenchman  had  not  been 
initiating  me  in  Protestantism ;  to  which,  she  said,  she  feared  I 
was  naturally  addicted. 

While  she  was  speaking,  Monsieur  de  Grammont  returned, 
and  immediately  joined  my  two  sisters,  who  were  sitting  toge- 
ther in  a  distant  part  of  the  room. 

They  were  both  handsome  at  all  times,  but  on  this  day  I 
thought  they  were  unusually  so.  Dora  was  a  brunette,  and 
Caroline  a  blonde.  I  observed,  from  Dora's  subdued  vivacity  as 
the  marquis  approached  her,  that  she  recollected  his  recent 
bereavement.  As  this  thought  expressed  itself  on  her  counten- 
ance, it  evidently  caused  a  sort  of  hesitation  at  the  commence- 
ment of  their  discourse,  which,  however,  soon  passed  away. 

When  the  gentlemen  came  up  from  the  dining-room,  they 
began,  en  masse,  to  rally  Monsieur  de  Grammont  on  his  running 
from  the  table  with  the  ladies.  His  replies  showed  him  to  be 
no  novice  in  convivial  banter;  and  although  he  was  evidently 
not  in  tune  for  the  raciness  of  Irish  wit,  he  failed  not  to  acquit 
himself  in  spirited  repartee. 


22  HELEN   MULUKAVK;  OR, 


CHAPTER  III. 

DUEING  the  ensuing  fortnight  we  all  became  attached  to  Mon- 
sieur de  Grammont  in  no  ordinary  degree.  He  was  a  character 
who  bore  close  acquaintance  well.  Frank,  manly,  and  sincere, 
from  principle  as  well  as  from  disposition,  the  more  we  saw  of 
him  the  more  we  liked  him. 

He  would  have  been  a  dangerous  person  amongst  so  many 
inexperienced  female  hearts,  had  not  the  feeling  which,  as  a 
heretic,  he  inspired,  caused  a  perpetual  effort  to  avoid  too  close 
an  intimacy  with  him. 

This  prejudice  created  an  effectual  barrier  to  that  reciproca- 
tion of  sentiment  and  confidence  which  wins  and  rivets  the 
affections. 

The  bishop  had  stayed  with  us  but  two  days  after  Monsieur  de 
Grammont's  arrival,  and  therefore  had  seen  but  little  of  him ; 
yet  he  left  behind  him  a  sting  in  almost  every  breast,  infused  by 
his  mystic  warnings,  which  could  not  but  work  him  harm. 

Even  my  father  and  mother  were  infected  with  his  demoniac 
zeal  for  their  church,  and  a  consequent  hostility  of  feeling  for 
one  so  decidedly  adverse  to  it  as  our  guest. 

After  Monsieur  de  Grammont's  first  week  with  us,  he  devoted 
himself  entirely  to  inform  and  entertain  me.  No  doubt,  as  the 
younger  of  the  family,  and  too  young  to  be  dangerous,  I  had 
often  before  this  been  an  object  of  attention  to  other  gentlemen 
of  our  circle. 

Monsieur  de  Grammont's  seeming  preference  did  not,  there- 
fore, move  me.  Unacquainted  with  my  own  heart,  and  with 
human  nature,  I  saw  no  danger  in  an  intercourse  which  became 
every  day  more  and  more  delightful. 

Leonce,  for  by  that  name  the  marquis  had  taught  me  to  call 
him,  found  endless  subjects  of  conversation;  on  which  he 
imparted  so  much  information,  that  I  had  a  deep  delight  in  lis- 
tening to  him. 

As  I  became  more  familiar  Avith  him,  I  one  day  introduced  the 
almost  interdicted  subject  between  us,  of  our  faiths,  with  a  view 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSHIP.  23 

to  rescue  him,  if  possible,  from  the  dreadful  consequences  of 
being  left  without  the  pale  of  the  Romish  church.  No  sooner 
was  this  subject  hroached,  and  I  had  heard  Leonce's  reply  to  my 
earnest  exhortations,  than  I  saw  the  extreme  arrogance  and  pre- 
sumption of  my  attempt,  blind  and  ignorant  as  I  was,  to  lead  him 
into  truth. 

I  was  at  once  convinced  that  I  must  discipline  my  understand- 
ing, and  greatly  enlarge  the  sphere  of  my  information,  before  I 
again  attempted  to  speak  to  him  on  a  subject  of  which  he  knew 
so  much  and  /  so  little. 

Leonce,  as  he  spoke  on  this  most  important  subject,  opened  a 
new  world  of  thought  and  opinion  to  me,  in  language  so  lucid 
and  so  simple  that  I  received  impressions  of  divine  truth  which 
became  ineffaceable. 

He  did  not  offer  me  his  Bible,  but,  in  the  confidential  dis- 
courses we  held,  I  had  inquired  respecting  that  book. 

I  told  him  of  my  father's  prohibition  of  it,  in  conformity  with 
the  requirements  of  the  church  and  the  priest ;  and  he  recom- 
mended me  to  get  the  prohibition,  if  possible,  withdrawn. 

Though  hopeless  of  success,  I  followed  his  advice,  and  to  my 
great  surprise  and  joy,  obtained  the  loan  of  a  Bible  from  my 
father. 

I  had  many  times  before  seen  the  exterior  of  this  blessed  book, 
for  Mary,  my  own  maid,  who  had  been  sent  to  me  from  England 
by  my  aunt  Mulgrave,  was  a  Protestant,  and  in  the  habit  of 
keeping  it  on  her  bedroom  table.  But  she  would  have  been 
promptly  dismissed  had  she  presumed  to  lend  it  to  any  of  us ; 
and,  knowing  this,  I  never  placed  her  in  peril  by  request- 
ing it. 

Having  now,  however,  obtained  it,  I  applied  myself  to  the 
perusal  of  its  sacred  pages ;  and  although  it  was  allowed  me  but 
for  a  limited  time,  so  that  I  became  only  partially  acquainted 
with  it,  the  perusal  formed  an  epoch  in  my  life. 

After  I  had  made  Leonce  acquainted  with  the  conflicting  state 
of  my  religious  feelings,  he  devoted  himself  incessantly  to  me ; 
and  his  tenderness,  though  not  expressed  in  words,  sank  deep 
into  my  soul,  and  became  an  absorbing  happiness ;  so  that  the 
habitual  tributes  of  family  affection  which  had  hitherto  been 


24  HULKS  MULGKAVK;  OH, 

reciprocated  amongst  us,  were  insipid  nnd  heartless  in  compari- 
son with  his  devotion  to  me. 

Yet  his  devotedness,  though  intensely  gratifying,  instead  of 
elating,  humbled  me ;  and  the  coveted  light,  which  I  was  con- 
tinually receiving  from  his  superior  understanding,  served  but  to 
show  me  my  own  inferiority  and  demerits.  But  I  could  have 
been  well  content  to  Bit  ever  at  his  feet,  and  owe  to  him  alone 
all  I  wished  to  know  and  to  become. 

As  October  commenced,  our  large  party  began  daily  to  dimin- 
ish, so  that  we  were  no  longer  in  a  crowd.  I  then  became  con- 
scious of  absorbing  too  much  of  the  society  of  L6once.  My  sis- 
ters quizzed  me,  and  my  father,  I  thought,  looked  grave  and 
anxious,  whenever  his  glance  fell  on  us  together.  There  were 
also  others  who  seemed  to  think  they  had  a  right  to  know  the 
subjects  of  L6once's  earnest  discourse  with  me. 

The  apprehension  of  wrong,  on  my  part,  threw  me  into  pain- 
ful abstractions ;  and,  absorbed  in  my  feelings,  I  secluded  myself 
from  the  social  circle.  Shut  up  in  my  own  room,  timidity  and 
self-distrust  took  possession  of  me.  I  became  imaginative  and 
prescient  to  a  painful  degree,  fearing  that  even  L6once's  regard 
might  already  be  diminished  by  the  preference  I  had  shown  for 
his  society.  This  thought  was  so  depressing  and  humiliating, 
that,  when  again  in  his  presence,  I  was  no  longer  able  to  con- 
verse with  him  frankly.  I  fancied  that,  having  already  occupied 
him  too  much,  I  ought  to  limit  our  intercourse,  lest  I  should 
wear  out  his  friendship. 

I  did  not  foresee  the  penance  I  was  inflicting  on  myself  by  this 
mode  of  repairing  the  wrong ;  still  less  did  I  imagine  it  would 
affect  L6once,  and  draw  painful  observation  on  the  change  it 
caused  in  his  appearance  and  deportment.  He  who  had 
appeared  to  have  been  almost  restored  to  health  and  happiness, 
was  now  plunged  deeper  than  ever  into  silence  and  melancholy. 
I  was  perhaps  more  affected  by  this  change  than  any  one.  New 
apprehensions  assailed  me.  I  attempted,  but  was  utterly  una- 
ble, to  converse  with  him  as  heretofore.  I  longed  to  invoke  his 
aid  in  unravelling  the  web  which  my  own  fancies  and  fears  had 
woven,  and  which  I  had  neither  tact  nor  power  to  accomplish 
without  his  assistance.  I  wept,  when  alone,  at  the  coldness  that 


JESUIT   EXECUTOKSHIP.  25 

Lad  sprung  up  between  us,  without  any  apparent  cause  but  my 
own  fastidiousness, — for  so  I  now  called  what  at  first  had 
seemed  but  the  dues  of  delicacy,  and  respect  for  his  good  opinion. 

Oh,  if  I  might  but  once  again  make  my  peace  with  him ! — 
but  once  again  believe  that  his  friendship  would  be  as  eternal  as 
ray  own !  It  was  thus  I  vented  my  anxiety  and  cherished  feel- 
ings, fertile  in  bliss  and  AVOC  ! 

While  wandering  about,  as  I  often  did,  alone,  wrapt  in  wak- 
ing dreams,  or  lost  in  the  regions  of  fancy,  my  uncle  one  morn- 
ing arrived  unexpectedly,  and  encountered  me  early  in  the  park. 
His  presence  filled  me  with  apprehension.  I  feared  his  scrutiny, 
and  anticipated  his  displeasure,  and  soon  escaped  from  him, 
without  learning,  until  some  months  after,  that,  under  his  con- 
trol, events  were  then  passing  around  me  that  fixed  my  fate, 
without  giving  rne  an  option  in  it. 

A.  poetical  work  appeared  about  this  time,  which,  though  since 
forgotten,  was  considered  in  its  day  an  elegant  and  captivating 
production. 

With  this  poem, — Mrs.  Tighe's  Psycfo — lent  me  by  a  lady  of 
our  party,  I  shut  myself  up  on  leaving  my  uncle  in  the  park,  in 
my  own  room,  to  peruse  it  without  interruption.  I  had  sup- 
posed, from  its  title,  that  it  was  a  sort  of  metaphysical  analysis 
of  the  soul.  How  greatly  was  I  surprised  at  finding  it  a  tale  of 
love!  With  wliat  eagerness  I  scanned  every  feature  of  a  pas- 
sion which  I  supposed  to  be  utterly  unknown  to  me.  Whoever 
has  perused  this  gem  of  poetry  will  feel  that  its  beautiful  and 
affecting  allegory  must  have  riveted  the  attention  of  a  girl  of 
sixteen,  reading  it  for  the  first  time.  I  became  so  absorbed  in 
it  as  to  be  utterly  unconscious  of  the  lapse  of  time.  Many  hours 
had  passed  since  breakfast.  Even  the  lunch-hour  had  gone  by, 
and  I  knew  it  not,  although  it  was  already  time  to  dress  for 
dinner,  when  Mary,  my  own  maid,  knocking  at  my  door, 
reminded  me  that  the  first  bell  had  rung. 

I  threw  aside  rny  book,  and  observing  Mary's  countenance, 
saw  in  it  something  unusual,  and  inquired  what  ailed  her. 

She  answered  by  tears,  which  she  appeared  unable  to  restrain, 
and,  in  broken  words,  told  mo  the  Marquis  do  Grammont  had 
gone  away  to  London. 

2 


26  HELEN    MULGRATB  J    OB, 

'  Gone  to  London  I     When  ?    Why  ?' 

'  Oh,  Miss  IleLen,  we  do  not  know  why  he  has  gone.  Bat  I 
myself  saw  him  go,  about  an  hour  since.  I  thought  you  didn't 
know  of  his  going,  as  you  were  not  with  the  young  ladies  and 
the  rest  of  the  part}',  to  bid  him  good  bye ;  and  I'm  sure  he 
missed  you,  for  he  kept  looking  round  every  minute,  as  if  he 
expected  you  to  come ;  and  he  turned  so  pale  when  he  saw  you 
didn't  come,  that  I  could  hardly  help  crying  before  his  face.  But 
as  soon  as  he  was  gone,  I  went  into  the  kitchen,  and  had  a  good 
cry ;  for  he  was  always  so  condescending  and  so  mindful  of 
everybody  that  did  him  the  least  service,  and  he " 

She  had  proceeded  thus  far,  when  she  saw  me  stagger  and 
sink  into  a  chair.  I  was  almost  unable  to  keep  life  in  me.  My 
breath  grew  shorter  and  shorter,  when  Mary  thoughtfully  open- 
ed a  window,  and  drew  my  chair  to  it.  The  refreshment  which 
the  air  afforded  enabled  me  to  recover  my  recollection  and  my 
prudence.  I  told  her  I  had  been  reading  so  closely  that  I  had 
forgotten  the  lunph-hour,  and  was  quite  exhausted. 

I  then  dismissed  her  for  a  glass  of  water,  and  thus  gained  a  few 
moments  to  myself,  during  which  I  prostrated  myself  on  the 
floor  in  an  agony  of  feeling.  The  sublime  and  impassioned 
thoughts  so  richly  scattered  in  the  pages  of  Psyche,  filled  my 
heart,  and  swelled  it  almost  to  suffocation,  while  its  beautiful 
personifications  stood  around  me  like  ministering  spirits.  Their 
voices  reached  my  ear,  and  realizing  the  beautiful  allegory  of 
Love  and  the  Soul,  as  a  verity  whose  fruition  was  only  to  be 
attained  in  heaven,  I  devoutly  prayed  to  die. 

Could  I,  at  that  moment,  have  foreseen  the  long  years  of 
sorrow  betwixt  me  and  death,  I  could  hardly  have  desired  it 
more  intensely 

Mary  returned,  and  in  obedience  to  my  injunction,  without 
informing  any  one  of  my  indisposition.  With  more  judgment 
than  her  mistress,  she  had  thought  a  glass  of  water  no  remedy 
for  exhaustion,  and  had  brought  with  her  substantial  refresh- 
ment. 

It  was  in  vain  that  I  tried  to  swallow  even  _a  single  morsel. 
My  throat  was  closed. 

It  was  necessary  I  should  make  my  appearance  at  table,  and 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  27 

without  being  at  all  aware  of  any  change  in  my  looks,  I  was 
soon,  by  Mary's  efforts,  dressed  and  ready  to  descend. 

I  entered  the  dining-room  with  as  firm  a  step  as  I  could  com- 
mand. The  party  was  already  seated,  and  every  one  turned  to 
look  at  me  as  I  took  my  chair.  The  bishop  in  particular  fixed 
his  eyes  on  me. 

I  was  just  able  to  move  to  my  mother  and  him,  and  looking 
up  and  down  the  table  to  ascertain  an  absence  that  I  had  not  yet 
realized,  I  met  my  father's  eye,  who,  instantly  laying  down  his 
knife  and  fork,  uttered  an  exclamation  of  alarm.  A  dimness 
came  over  my  sight,  and  a  swelling  at  my  heart  stopped  my 
breath.  I  resigned  myself  cordially  to  what  I  supposed  to  be 
death,  and  in  a  moment  both  sight  and  consciousness  were  gone. 

When  I  came  to  life  again,  I  was  on  my  bed,  in  my  own 
chamber ;  and  there  were  so  many  loving  faces  hanging  over 
me,  which  at  first  I  knew  not,  that  I  thought  I  was  already  in 
heaven. 

My  dear  mother  was  chafing  my  hands,  my  sisters  applying 
smelling  bottles,  and  each  one  performing  some  kind  office.  An 
exclamation  of  'thank  God!'  drew  my  attention  to  my  dear 
father  at  the  foot  of  the  bed. 

I  soon  prevailed  on  them  to  return  to  the  dining-room,  and 
leave  me  to  the  tender  care  of  Mary. 

Eevived  by  so  much  kindness,  I  should  have  been  quite  tran- 
quil, but  vivid  recollections  came  rushing  on  me,  reminding  me 
how  ill  I  had  sustained  the  shock  inflicted,  and  how  much  I  had 
yet  to  do  to  repress  my  feelings  and  keep  my  own  secret. 

That  no  one  knew  the  bitterness  of  what  I  felt  was  all  the 
consolation  that  remained  to  me.  Yet  I  longed  for  some  pitying 
friend,  on  whose  shoulder  I  might  lay  my  head,  and  penitently 
reveal  the  folly  of  having  trusted  in  Leonce's  sincerity. 

After  some  time,  I  became  composed  enough  to  suppose  it 
possible  that  I  had  myself  been  the  cause  of  Leonce's  abrupt 
departure.  Why  had  I  been  so  often  absent  from  the  family 
circle  ?  Had  he  not  more  reason  to  complain  of  me  than  I  of 
him?  This  thought  was  agony,  for  it  created  a  responsibility 
which  I  was  not  able  to  endure.  Yet  was  he  not  privileged  at 
any  moment  to  ask  for  an  explanation  of  an  apparent  caprice  ? 


28  HKUCN  MUUJRAVE;  OR, 

I  had  then  treated  him  capriciously  I  This  possibility  was  the 
climax  of  snffering! 

But  the  sun  rises  and  sets,  and  the  moon,  -with  her  soothing 
light,  holds  her  never-varying  course  in  the  heavens,  whatever 
tempests  shake  the  terrestrial  world,  or  whatever  sorrows  drain 
the  heart  of  its  life. 

Weeks  passed,  and  no  one  spoke  to  me  of  Leonce.  Why  was 
he  thus  cast  utterly  out  of  sight?  What  had  he  done  to  oltVnd 
the  whole  house  ?  I  dared  not  ask,  lest  I  should  be  detected  in 
thinking  of  him. 

At  a  future  time,  I  learnt  that  it  was  by  my  father's  express 
commands  that  Leonce's  name  was  never  uttered  in  my  hearing, 
or  myself  subjected  to  any  remark  in  reference  to  what  had 
passed  on  the  day  of  his  departure. 

He  was  not  unaware,  it  seemed,  of  what  was  passing  in  my 
mind,  but  he  had  his  own  views  in  adopting  the  course  I  have 
mentioned,  as  it  was  both  my  uncle's  and  his  policy  that  I  should 
forget  Leonce  altogether. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

TIME,  the  great  healer  of  sorrow,  passed  on,  and  I  became 
anxious  once  more  to  perform  in  the  confessional  what  I  had  not 
yet  ceased  to  consider  a  duty.  I  felt  the  necessity  of  disencum- 
bering my  conscience  of  a  load  of  wrong,  which  it  had  accumu- 
lated in  reference  to  a  knowledge  of  many  religious  truths,  which, 
unacknowledged,  seemed  to  be  held  unworthily,  and  as  it  were 
surreptitiously. 

Many  weeks  had  passed  since  I  last  saw  Father  Ossory  in  the 
confessional,  and  as  I  waited  on  him  in  the  oratory,  he  rose  to 
greet  me,  with  a  kindness  of  manner  that  seemed  to  fay,  '  It  is 
my  lost  child  returned !'  I  knelt  to  kiss  his  hand,  but  he  raised 
me  instantly,  with  reproofs  for  a  homage  which  he  disclaimed. 

I  had  thus  bent  before  him  under  the  weight  of  various  feel- 
ings which  would  not  allow  me  to  meet  his  eye.  Alas !  when  I 
had  met  him  last  for  the  purpose  of  confession,  I  had  nover  seen 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  29 

Ldonce,  nor  did  I  then  know  myself  as  I  now  did.  I  had  been 
raised  to  the  heights  of  happiness,  and  plunged  into  the  depths 
of  grief,  in  that  interval.  I  now  needed  advice  and  sympathy  ; 
yet  how  tell  the  good  Father  of  my  childish  and  unavailing 
griefs  ?  Could  I  look  on  that  discerning  though  benignant  coun- 
tenance, and  not  quail  before  it.  Could  he  fail  to  despise  the 
childishness  and  yet  arrogance  of  my  assumption,  in  claiming 
him  as  an  auditor  of  what,  to  him,  must  seem  puerile  ? 

I  remained  like  a  statue  before  him,  with  my  head  bent,  until 
tears  coursed  each  other  down  my  face. 

'My  dear  daughter,'  he  at  length  said,  'have  you  something 
to  say  to  me  which  you  find  it  difficult  and  painful  to  express  ? 
And  Avhy  is  it  so  ?  Am  I  not  entitled,  from  the  office  I  hold,  to 
your  confidence  ?  And  have  I  not  also  a  right  to  share  your  per- 
plexities, and  tp  support  you  under  your  difficulties  ?  Let  us  sit 
down  and  converse  freely  together,  and  may  the  blessing  of  God 
be  upon  us  1 

As  I  felt  myself  further  than  ever  from  confession  at  that 
moment,  and  thought  only  of  deferring  it,  I  sat  down,  and  in 
reply  to  him,  said, — 

'  I  have  indeed  much  to  confess  to  you,  and  to  inquire  of  you, 
father.  But  I  fear  it  is  not  in  my  power  at  this  time  to  unburden 
my  heart,  though  it  is  greatly  oppressed.  But  there  is  one  thing 
which  lies  heavily  on  it.  Since  I  last  communed  with  you,  I 
have  become  acquainted  with  the  Protestant  Bible,  and  am  very 
anxious  to  learn  not  only  your  opinion  of  my  having  done  so, 
but  also  of  the  sacred  book  itself.' 

'  Why,  the  Bible,  my  child,  whether  Protestant  or  Catholic,  is 
the  book  of  God,  and  there  is  no  such  essential  difference  be- 
tween the  two  as  is  generally  supposed.  But  the  Bible  is  not  a 
book  for  the  ignorant  or  the  young,  except  under  pastoral  guid- 
ance.' 

'  Yon  would  not  then,  father,  approve  of  my  having  a  Bible 
in  my  own  keeping  ?' 

'  Not  to  be  entirely  at  your  own  disposal,  daughter.  You 
might  be  allowed  to  read  portions  of  it,  as  indeed  you  must 
already  have  done,  if  I  recollect  rightly.' 

'  I  havo  read  very  short  passages  from  it.    But  they  were  so 


80  HELEN'    MULGRAVE  ;    OB, 

mixed  up  with  other  writings  which  did  not  form  any  part  of 
the  inspired  book,  that  until  lately  I  had  no  more  reverence  for 
the  one  than  the  other.  Was  it  right  I  should  have  felt  thus  ? 
and  am  I  wrong  now  in  making  a  distinction  that  exalts  the  one 
arid,  by  comparison,  disparages  the  other  ?' 

'My  dear  daughter,  the  inquiries  you  make  Avill  lead  you  into 
deep  waters.  Are  yon  able  to  sound  them  ?  What  if  they  prove 
unfathomable?  I  will  endeavour  to  solve  your  difficulties, 
although,  in  my  weak  and  individual  capacity,  I  assume  no  infal- 
libility. Our  church,  indeed,  is  infallible,  but  it  pledges  not  itself 
for  the  infallibility  of  its  respective  ministers ;  and,  in  truth, 
there  is  strictly  "none  good  but  one,  that  is  God."  How  has 
your  mind  been  so  perturbed  ?  Of  what  are  you  apprehensive  ? 
You  seem  to  think  that  your  religious  training  has  been  defec- 
tive. If,  indeed,  it  has  been  so,  it  is  myself  alAne  that  must  be 
answerable  for  it.' 

'  May  I  tell  yon,  father,  what  words  are  sounding  in  my  ears 
at  this  moment  ?  They  are  a  recollection  of  what  I  read  in  the 
sacred  book.' 

'  Speak,  my  child.' 

' "  There  is  one  Mediator  betwixt  God  and  man — the  man  Christ 
Jesus."  Is  there  mdre  than  one  ?  The  expression  I  have  quoted, 
and  many  others  like  it,  in  the  Protestant  Bible,  seem  to  exclude 
the  idea  of  any  mediator  but  the  blessed  Jesus  himself.' 

Father  Ossory  here  rose  in  haste,  saying,  as  he  did  so, — '  Do 
y<?u  know,  daughter,  that  to  question  the  truth  of  any  doctrine 
incorporated  in  the  creeds  of  the  Church  is  damning  heresy  ? 
And  such,  as  in  stricter  times,  would  have  sent  the  recusant  to 
the  stake  ?  If  my  words  sound  harshly  to  you,  yet  reject  them 
not ;  but  receive  them  as  the  warning  of  that  love  which  every 
true  pastor  in  our  holy  church  feels  in  an  especial  degree  for  the 
lambs  of  his  flock.  Yesterday,  you  were  but  as  a  babe,  and 
already,  you  have  attained  to  a  startling  maturity ;  and  having 
cast  away  that  deference  for  what  has  hitherto  been  sacred  in 
your  eyes,  ypu  have  replaced  it  by  a  reckless  curiosity,  that  may 
eventually  lead  you  beyond  the  saving  pale  of  the  church  in 
whose  bosom  you  have  been  reared.  You  ask  me  if  there  is 
more  than  one  mediator.  Do  you  not  know  that  the  church 


JB3UIT   EXECUTORSIIIP.  31 

recognises  many  ?  You  look  surprised,  dear  child !  Is  it  then 
"  lack  of  knowledge"  that  has  set  thee  adrift  on  the  ocean  of 
opinion  ?  I  must,  henceforth,  take  thee  under  my  own  especial 
guidance.  But  I  cannot  consent  to  any  further  perusal  of  a 
Protestant  Bible, — not  even  to  a  single  page  of  it.  And  I  hope 
shortly  to  learn,  in  a  full  and  voluntary  confession,  the  means  by 
which  my  child  has  been  put  in  possession  of  a  book,  which  has 
been  used  to  seduce -her  from  both  duty  and  faith.  And  now, 
farewell  for  a  short  season.  I  expect  you  to  send  me,  without 
delay,  that  bone  of  contention  between  us,  the  Protestant  Bible. 
Till  I  receive  it,  my  anxiety  will  be  great  and  unceasing.' 

I  told  the  good  father  that  I  was  no  longer  in  possession  of  it. 
Our  interview  ended  thus,  and  I  returned  from  it  to  my  own 
chamber.  I  found  there  my  mother  and  sisters. 

My  mother  expressed  her  satisfaction  at  the  interview  I  had 
just  had  with  my  confessor.  But  I  could  not  reciprocate  her 
feeling,  and  she  looked  askingly  in  my  face  for  the  cause,  but  did 
not  inquire. 

My  conversation  with  Father  Ossory  had  shocked  and  startled 
me ;  on  many  points  I  cosld  not  but  perceive  that  my  inquiries 
had  been  evaded,  and  that  I  had  left  him  without  acquiring  the 
information  I  needed. 

In  his  zeal  for  the  infallibility  of  his  church,  he  had  exhibited 
a  severity  foreign  to  his  ordinary  habits  of  speaking  on  that  sub- 
ject, and  had  enumerated  the  claims  and  titles  of  the  Virgin, 
which  appeared  to  me  as  unauthorized  as  they  were  absurd. 

Much  as  I  wished  to  open  my  heart  to  my  mother  on  this  sub- 
ject, it  would  have  been  impossible  to  complain  to  her  of  the 
good  father ;  although  his  advice,  so  ill  adapted  to  allay  the 
anxiety  and  satisfy  the  yearnings  of  my  heart  after  something 
more  than  was  to  be  found  in  the  rosary  or  the  aves,  or  even  in 
appeals  to  the  saints,  had  left  me  more  unhappy  than  before  tho 
interview. 

My  mother  expressed  tho  most  tender  concern  for  a  sadness 
she  did  not  inquire  into,  and  proposed  a  ride  before  dinner,  with 
my  father  and  brother. 

I  was  but  too  happy  to  adopt  her  suggestion,  and  escape  thus 
from  myself;  and  was  soon  in  a  canter  on  my  favourite  steed. 


32  HELEN    MU1GRAVE?  OR, 

'Vivian  Grey'  tells  us,  that  a  ride  on  horseback  is  a  cure  for 
every  evil,  and  the  best  preparation  for  all  enterprises,  whether 
for  the  conquest  of  the  world  or  the  conquest  of  oneself.  I  was 
thankful  for  the  relief  which  a  view  of  earth  and  sky  once  more 
afforded  ine,  in  the  varied  forms  of  beauty  and  grace  always  to 
be  found  in  inanimate  nature.  My  dear  father's  conversation,  too, 
during  our  ride,  was  so*well  adapted  to  draw  my  thoughts  from 
my  own  griefs  to  the  stern  realities  of  suffering,  so  universal  in 
the  pathway  of  life,  that  I  dismounted  from  my  horse  with  a 
feeling  of  contempt  for  the  sensibility  which  had  absorbed  me 
in  self. 

When  the  family  assembled  at  dinner,  we  were  without  visitors. 
So  unusual  a  circumstance,  in  my  father's  house,  threw,  at  first, 
a  sort  of  loneliness  over  the  circle.  But  afterwards,  as  an  un- 
fettered and  confidential  family  intercourse  sprang  up  amongst 
us,  the  peculiar  charm  of  home  was  without  alloy. 

My  father's  conversation,  on  this  day,  with  Mr.  Rivers,  after 
the  cloth  had  been  removed  and  the  servants  withdrawn,  struck 
me  as  exhibiting  a  state  of  mind,  on  the  subject  of  his  faith,  re- 
eembling  my  own. 

Yet  I  dared  not  volunteer  a  thought  on  such  a  subject  in  the 
presence  of  my  mother,  who,  though  not  intolerant  in  her  opi- 
nions, Avas  yet  so  tenacious  of  the  authority  of  her  church,  and 
so  assured  of  its  infallibility,  that  she  shuddered  at  the  idea  of 
resisting  it  in  any  form. 

My  father's  wavering  opinions  and  inconsistent  practices  were 
but  the  natural  result  of  his  finding  it  impossible  to  reconcile 
with  reason  and  common  sense  the  dogmas  with  which  he  felt 
his  mind  in  a  state  of  perpetual  antagonism.  Yet,  had  he  been 
as  frank  with  his  confessor  as  might  have  been  expected,  it  i.s 
possible  that  two  men  so  thoroughly  good  and  intelligent  as 
Father  Ossory  and  himself,  both  in  spirit  and  in  life,  might  have 
succeeded  in  awakening  each  other  to  a  knowledge  of  the  truth. 

Our  school-room  studies  had  long  since  been  ended,  but  our 
two  teachers  still  remained,  to  assist  in,  and  in  some  degree  su- 
perintend our  pursuits  and  movements. 

Autumn  had  far  advanced,  and  nature  wore  her  gloomiest  and 
most  disordered  aspect,  when  Miss  White  one  day  informed  us, 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSHIP.  33 

very  abruptly,  that  both  Mr.  Rivers  and  herself  were  to  leave  us 
on  the  following  day.  She  burst  into  tears  as  she  ended  her  com- 
munication, and,  touched  by  her  emotion,  we  wept  with  her.  AH 
that  had  ever  been  disagreeable  in  her,  disappeared  at  once,  and 
we  recollected  only  what  was  amiable  in  her  character,  and  the 
number  of  years  she  had  been  with  us. 

"We  inquired  why  she  went  away,  and  so  suddenly?  but  she 
only  replied  by  saying — '  It  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  stay 
for  ever.  My  duties  have  been  some  time  over,  and  my  work, 
so  far  as  I  have  been  able  to  make  it  so,  is,  I  hope,  complete. 
My  departure  has,  therefore,  been  some  weeks  decided  on.  You 
all  play  and  sing  very  sweetly — Caroline  divinely ;  and  I  think 
that  even  in  London,  or  Paris,  no  one  would  discover  in  your 
dancing  that  you  had  not  been  taught  by  a  first-rate  pro- 
fessor. 

'  But  I  will  not  enumerate  my  achievements ;  it  would  be  more 
consonant  with  my  feelings  to  speak  of  what  still  remains  to  be 
done  to  make  you,  Dora  and  Helen,  what  I  could  have  wished 
to  see  you.  You  must,  however,  bear  witness  for  me,  that  it  is 
not  my  fault  if  you  have  been  allowed  to  acquire,  by  too  much 
reading,  a  knowledge  of  many  things  of  which  it  had  been  better 
for  you  to  have  been  ignorant.  A  child  of  our  holy  church  needs 
not  to  know  more  of  religion  or  morals  than  her  priest  teaches 
her.  Alas,  my  dear  girls !  you  have  been  allowed  to  read  the 
Bible,  and  to  see  it  applied  by  Protestant  writers  to  the  condem- 
nation of  your  own  infallible  church.  What  has  been  the  con- 
sequence ?  Certainly  only  what  might  have  been  expected.  You 
have  fallen  into  the  snares  of  heresy,  and  presume  to  think  for 
yourselves,  and  judge  for  yourselves,  as  though  independent 
thought  and  opinion  were  allowable  and  praiseworthy.  Only 
yesterday,  my  dear  Helen,  I  found  a  book  open  in  your  room, 
whose  pages  were  marked  all  over  with  your  pencil,  indicating 
a  close  attention  to  and  approbation  of  their  contents. 

'  And  what  was  that  book  forsooth  ?  No  other  than  '  Newton, 
on  the  Prophecies!' 

'Why,  my  dear,  if,  when  that  book  first  appeared  in  England, 
our  church  had  had  the  power  which  she  formerly  had,  the  author, 
from  what  I  saw  of  its  contents,  would  have  been  ofiered  up,  a 

2* 


34  HELKX  MULGRAVE;  OR, 

just  sacrifice  to  God,  on  the  rack,  or  in  the  flames  of  the  Holy 
Inquisition.' 

Dora  and  I  shuddered,  and  looked  at  each  other,  for  we  had 
both  been  reading  this  heretical  book ;  and  although  we  could 
not  credit  Miss  White's  extravagant  statement  of  the  punishment 
which  she  conceived  the  author  would  have  been  exposed  to 
under  certain  circumstances,  her  language  was  so  decided  and  so 
strong,  as  to  indicate  'almost  a  ferocity  of  feeling  against  those 
who  differed  from  her  in  religion. 

Having  recovered  from  our  surprise,  for  we  had  never  before 
found  her  so  earnest  and  severe  in  her  rebukes,  we  attempted  a 
justification  of  ourselves ;  not  certainly,  expecting  to  convince 
Miss  White,  but  because,  as  it  led  us  into  an  examination  of  our 
own  views  and  conduct,  it  might  not  prove  wholly  unsatisfactory 
to  our  own  minds.  We  had  no  desire  to  oppose  Miss  White, 
especially  now,  when  her  vocation  was  ended ;  but  Dora,  with 
her  habitual  fearlessness,  inquired  of  her  whether,  if  it  had  fallen 
to  her  lot  to  judge  Bishop  Newton  and  assign  his  punishment,.she 
could  have  consented  to  take  his  life  for  his  mere  exposition  of 
Scripture  contrary  to  the  received  opinions  of  the  church. 

'  Most  certainly,'  she  replied. 

'  On  what  authority  ?'  said  Dora. 

'  On  that  of  the  church,  certainly.' 

'  And  does  the  church,  then,  sanction  human  sacrifices?' 

'  It  disposes  of  its  enemies,  of  course,  Dora.' 

'  By  what  law  ?' 

'  By  the  canon  law,  which  is  the  law  of  the  church.' 

'  I  hope  you  are  mistaken,  Miss  White.  Your  report  of  the 
church  revolts  me.  Such  a  practice  as  you  attribute  to  it  could 
only  be  tolerated  by  savages  or  demons,  and  I  would  fain  hope 
that  you  have  overstated  the  fact.' 

'  Dora,'  said  Miss  White,  somewhat  angrily,  '  we  will  drop 
this  subject.  I  have  no  hope  of  reclaiming  you.' 

'My  dear  Miss  White,'  saicl  Caroline,  'do  not  say  so,  just  as 
you  are  leaving  us.  There  wiL  now  be  no  one  to  care  for  Dora's 
soul  as  you  have  done.' 

'  Carry,'  said  Dora,  '  you  forget  our  good  Father  Ossory  and 
our  parents.' 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  35 

*  I  am  afraid  I  did,  for  the  moment,'  said  Caroline ;  '  but  it  is 
because  Miss  "White  is  going,  that  I  thought  only  of  her.' 

At  this  moment  Mr.  Rivers  entered  the  library,  and  Dora 
expressed  to  him  her  concern  and  mine  at  having  just  learned 
that  it  was  his  intention  soon  to  leave  us. 

He  said,  he  also  felt  deep  regret  at  a  movement  which  had 
been  rather  suddenly  decided  on.  '  It  is  impossible,'  he  conti- 
nued, '  after  so  long  a  residence  in  a  family  where  one  has  been 
made  so  truly  happy,  not  to  feel  that  parting  is  a  wrench  intense- 
ly painful ;  but  I  hope  that  the  course  of  reading  and  instruc- 
tion with  which  I  have  furnished  you  for  some  years  past,  and 
for  the  effects  of  which  I  consider  myself  responsible,  will  in 
future  life  produce  such  fruits,  to  each  of  you  ladies,  as  shall 
cause  you  sometimes  to  think  of  me  with  approbation.  It  is 
impossible  to  foresee  what  part  either  of  you  may  have  to  per- 
form in  life. 

'  Human  existence  is  full  of  vicissitudes,  and  we  are  all  born 
to  trouble.  But  good  principles,  and  views  of  duty  consonant 
with  truth,  will,  under  God's  blessing,  conduct  us  through  all 
dangers  and  difficulties ;  if  not  to  happiness,  at  least  to  peace, 
and  quietness  of  mind.' 

'  And  you,  only,  Mr.  Rivers,'  interrupted  Miss  "White,  angrily, 
1  know  how  to  teach  either  religion  or  duty — eh  ?' 

'  That  is  an  inference  unworthy  of  a  candid  opponent,  Miss 
"White ;  but  permit  me,  once  for  all,  to  say,  with  the  emphasis 
of  last  words,  that  there  is  no  mind  to  which  the  Scriptures  are 
unknown,  that  can  be  in  possession  of  a  test  by  which  religious 
opinions  may  be  effectually  tried.  This  remark  for  you,  Miss 
"White.  As  for  these  young  ladies,  they,  at  present,  know  but 
little  of  the  Bible;  and  even  that  little  was  not  taught  by  me. 
It  was  bestowed  on  them  by  a  parental  hand,  and  I  have  reason 
to  hope  and  believe  that  they  will  not  be  much  longer  unac- 
quainted with  that  blessed  and  indispensable  book ;  but  that 
having  it  at  hand,  they  will  use  their  own  excellent  understand- 
ings on  what  they  are  taught  of  religion ;  and,  comparing  it  with 
the  Word  of  God,  bo  able  to  ascertain  whether  it  ia  or  is  riot 
consistent  with  the  teaching  of  Inspiration.' 

'Go  on,  Mr.  Rivers,  to  the  last  moment,'   exclaimed  Miss 


SO  HELEN    MULGKAVK  ;    OR, 

White,  sharply ;  '  your  assumptions  might  be  permitted  to  a 
member  of  our  infallible  Church,  but  to  no  other.  I  am  happy 
to  say/  for  myself,  that  your  teaching  has  never  shaken  my 
faith!' 

'  Nor  yours  mine,  Miss  "White.  So  far,  we  are  quits,'  con- 
cluded Mr.  Kivers,  with  a  bow. 

At  this  moment  we  rose  to  repair  to  the  drawing-room,  to 
await  the  announcement  of  dinner.  Mr.  Rivers,  notwithstand- 
ing their  skirmish,  led  Miss  White,  and  we  followed. 

As  we  descended  the  stairs,  we  were  joined  by  my  brother. 
We  found  already  assembled  in  the  drawing-room,  not  only  my 
father  and  mother,  and  Father  Ossory,  but  the  bishop  also ;  and 
two  other  gentlemen,  who  were  strangers  to  us,  of  venerable 
appearance. 

As  our  spirits  were  quite  below  par,  the  appearance*  of 
something  like  a  party,  though  a  small  one,  was  very  welcome  to 
ns  all. 

The  two  gentlemen  proved  to  be  no  other  than  two  of  the 
choicest  spirits  of  the  age,  as  we  were  not  long  in  discovering. 

The  character  of  even  their  ordinary  speaking,  was  riveting  to 
the  ear;  but  when,  having  plunged  into  a  subject  which  kindled 
their  own  enthusiasm,  they  threw  the  reins  on  the  neck  of  Fancy, 
every  sentence  became  a  spell,  until  the  entranced  listener  was 
borne  away  captive,  to  do  homage  to  their  mysterious  powers 
of  thought  and  language. 

My  father,  who  well  knew  how  to  draw  them  out,  did  not 
slumber  at  his  post.  As  the  servants  withdrew,  he  renewed  his 
imperceptible  promptings,  so  as  to  lead  them  to  climax  after 
climax ;  until  my  mother's  attention,  like  that  of  her  daughters', 
became  so  enchained,  that  we  thought  not  of  moving,  or  she  of 
giving  the  signal  for  it. 

A  moment's  pause  occurring,  we  were  beginning  to  recollect 
ourselves,  when  the  elder  Mr. ,  after  contemplating  my  bro- 
ther for  a  few  minutes  with  a  quizzical  air,  inquired,  in  a  tone 
of  banter,  what  he  was  thinking  of? 

*  I  was  thinking  of  you,  sir,'  replied  William. 

1  Oh !  I'm  glad  of  that,  as  I  was  thinking  of  you.  Do  you 
know  that  I  am  a  fortune  teller  V 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP  87 

4  Are  you,  sir?'  said  William,  with  a  startled  air ;  but  recover- 
ing, said,  '  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  my  fortune,  sir.' 

'  If  you  wish  it,  you  shall  have  it,  my  man,'  said  he,  fixing  on 
him  a  look  of  scrutiny  that  made  him  quail.  '  Well,  then — "  the 
past,  the  present,  and  the  future,"  as  Le  Norman  says.  I  pass 
over  the  ordinary  incantations,  and  begin  with  the  "  past."  You 
have  already  lived  in  the  world  nearly  twenty  years,  and  have 
done  nothing  but  eat,  drink,  sleep,  run,  ride,  groom  horses,  and 
talk  to  stable  boys.' 

William  flushed,  and  looked  affronted,  muttering  '  I've  done 
what  others  do,  sir.' 

'  Arrah !  my  young  buck — don't  forget  who  ye  are  speaking 

to,'  exclaimed  Mr. ,  in  a  tone  of  exquisite  jocularity.  '  I  can 

tell  you  what  you  have  not  done,  as  well  as  what  you  have  done. 
You  have  not  loved  Greek,  or  Latin,  or  mathematics,  or  science,  or 
"letter-press"  of  any  sort.  But  as  you  are  come,  almost,  to  man's 
estate,  your  work  is  cut  out,  and  you  must  now  do  something. 
Your  profession  is  determined  on — you  are  going  on  the  road.' 

'  The  road  sir  !     What,  to  be  a  highwayman,  sir  ?' 

*  Not  exactly  that.     A  postillion,  perhaps,  or  a  mail-coachman, 
or  a  waggoner.     Which  do  you  prefer  ?' 

'  Neither,  sir.' 

'  I  can't  untell  your  fortune,  my  boy.  You  must  take  one  of 
the  three.  A  mail-coachman  is  a  four-in-hand  gentleman ;  who, 
if  he  doesn't  drive  the  world  before  him,  drags  it  after  him. 
Come,  come,  Willy  1  as  you  are  a  "  born  gentleman,"  keep  up  the 
craft.  Take  up  the  coachman's  box,  for  it  is  your  fortune  to  be 
an  actor  in  'equestrian  games ;  and  if  you  break  your  neck,  like 
Phaeton,  it  will  be  all  in  your  line,  and  easy  enough,  in  these 
days,  for  Science  to  direct  the  dovetailing  of  a  bit  of  bone  into 
the  vertebrae,  that  shall  set  your  head  again  on  your  shoulders  in 
a  twinkling.  I  suppose  you  are  acquainted  with  Phaeton,  Willy, 
being  one  of  your  clan  ?' 

*  Yes,  sir,  I  suppose  I  am ;  but  I  forget  his  sirnafcie.' 

The  loud  laugh  that  followed  this  reply  was  barely  restrained 
until  my  mother  and  we,  who  had  risen  from  table,  made  our 
escape  from  the  dining-room,  with  merry  faces,  though  certainly 
at  poor  Willy's  expense. 


38  HELEN  MULGBAVE;  OR, 

Onr  mirth  died  away  as  the  laughter  of  the  dining-room  was 
lost  in  distance,  and  we  soon  found  ourselves  circling  round  the 
fire  in  the  drawing-room ;  and  with  that  feeling  of  restlessness 
which  precedes  a  change  such  as  we  were  now  anticipating,  we 
occupied  ourselves  with  mere  nothings ;  more  disposed  to  rumi- 
nate than  to  read  or  converse. 

Miss  White  was  also  meditative  and  silent  for  some  time. 
Then,  turning  to  my  mother,  she  inquired  if  she  could  explain 
to  her  the  extraordinary  jest  played  off  upon  William  at  table. 
My  mother  replied,  that  my  father,  perplexed  heyond  measure 
with  the  uncontrollable  propensities  of  William,  had  asked 

Mr.  ,  who  was  deeply  read  in  human  nature,  if  he  could 

advise  him  how  to  manage  him,  so  as  to  give  a  new  bias  to  his 
character ;  and  she  supposed  it  was  in  consequence  of  this  that 

Mr. had  bantered  William  as  he  didT  as  a  mere  experiment 

on  his  disposition  and  capacity. 

'  I  was  not  sorry,'  said  my  mother,  '  to  see  the  boy  blush  ;  I 
hardly  thought  he  would  have  taken  it  so  much  in  earnest.' 

'  It  was  only  a  flash  of  anger,  Lady  Mulgrave,'  said  Miss  White. 
'  I  much  fear  you  will  never  do  anything  with  William,  so  long 
as  he  is  allowed  to  hang  about  the  cottage  of  the  fosterer.  Mrs. 
Brian,  the  daughter  from  Dublin,  is  returned  a  widow,  and  has 
two  daughters  growing  up.  From  what  I  have  seen  and  known 
of  her,  I  should  think  her  capable  of  any  kind  of  mischief  to  your 
family,  Lady  Mulgrave ;  and  as  I  am  leaving  you,  I  am  glad  to 
have  an  opportunity  of  speaking  to  your  ladyship  on  this  sub- 
ject. I  do  not  blame  Mr.  Rivers  for  William's  intercourse  with 
the  Brians,  because  I  believe  that  Sir  WilRam,  who  is  always 
more  kind  to  others  than  to  himself,  could  not  be  prevailed  on 
to  prohibit  it  entirely,  on  account  of  his  tenderness  for  the  feel- 
ings of  liis  foster-mother ;  and  I  fear  that  advantage  has  been 
taken  of  William's  visits  to  the  cottage  to  introduce  the  daugh- 
ters to  him,  and  to  inveigle  him  into  some  sort  of  connexion 
with  one  of  tfcjm.  William's  supposed  "passion  for  the  stable" 
should  be  translated  '  passion  for  the  cottage-girl."  ' 

My  mother;  who  never  had  a  suspicion  of  William's  being  a 
visitant  at  the  cottage,  became  more  agitated  than  I  had  ever 
seen  her.  She  rose  hurriedly,  and  taking  Miss  White's  arm,  led 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSHIP.  39 

her  away  to  her  own  room,  and  did  not  return  until  the  gentle- 
men were  summoned  to  coffee. 

William  was  not  with  them,  and  it  was  found  on  inquiry  that 
he  had  left  the  dining-room  immediately  after  the  ladies. 

Mr.  Elvers  being  informed  of  what  had  passed,  went  instantly 
in  search  of  his  pupil,  and  returned,  in  about  an  hour,  with  him 
on  his  arm.  No  reproofs  were  administered  to  him  that  night ; 
but  the  next  morning,  my  father  was  with  him,  before  he  had 
left  his  room.  Meantime  our  guests  were  preparing  for  depar- 
ture, and  immediately  after  breakfast,  took  leave  of  us. 

My  uncle  then  left  us,  taking  Father  Ossory  and  William  with 
him. 

No  sooner  were  they  gone,  than  two  cars  drove  up,  for  the 
accommodation  of  Mr.  Rivers  and  Miss  White.  They  shortly 
after  set  off,  in  different  directions ;  the  one  to  the  north  of  the 
island,  the  other  to  England. 

A  visible  weight  fell  on  my  father  and  mother  on  this  occa- 
sion, which  seemed  greater  than  was  natural.  They  retired  to 
their  private  room  together  as  soon  as  the  cars  had  driven  off, 
dined  there  alone,  and  were  not  visible  till  the  following 
morning. 

Meantime,  as  we  could  not  apply  ourselves  to  anything,  my 
sisters  and  I  roamed  about  the  deserted  house,  hanging  upon 
each  other,  and  thinking,  perhaps  from  sheer  idleness,  more  of 
the  ghosts  and  fairies  of  former  times  than  of  ourselves.  Our 
dinner  had  been  ordered  in  our  own  boudoir,  and  thither,  when 
it  was  announced,  we  repaired. 

As  we  sat  by  the  fire  side,  conversing  idly,  after  dinner,  it 
seemed  to  strike  each  of  us  that  the  very  abrupt  departure  of 
Mr.  Rivers  and  Miss  White  must  have  been  caused  by  some  sud- 
den necessity  or  purpose  of  their  own,  perhaps.  We  all  agreed 
in  thinking  that  my  father  and  mother  could  not  have  contrived 
it ;  yet  they  parted  with  them  in  perfect  friendliness,  as  if  their 
going  was  a  movement  in  which  they  acquiesced. 

But  the  seclusion  of  our  parents  immediately  after  they  were 
gone,  without  making  any  arrangement  for  the  new  position  and 
loneliness  of  their  children,  was  so  extraordinary  and  unlike 
themselves,  that  we  could  augur  nothing  from  it.  Thrown  out 


40  HELEN  MULGRAVE;  OR, 

of  every  habit,  and  every  species  of  occupation,  the  very  cnrrcnt 
of  onr  life  was,  as  it  were,  suspended,  and  we  were  more  dia- 
posed  to  vent  our  complaints  in  tears  than  in  words.  We  went 
to  the  window,  watched  the  setting  sun  as  it  dropped  below  the 
horizon,  and  should  soon  have  sunk  into  paralysing  ennui,  had 
not  our  good  father,  early  in  the  evening,  sent  us  one  of  the 
London  papers,  which  had  just  arrived. 

We  all  blessed  the  boon,  and  forming  a  close  circle,  one  took 
up  rug-work,  and  another  netting,  while  Dora  read  aloud,  for  the 
benefit  of  all,  the  news  of  the  day. 

There  was  an  unusual  flush  of  news  from  foreign  parts  in  the 
paper.  Amongst  other  things,  the  arrival  of  Bonaparte  at  St. 
Helena,  whose  fallen  greatness,  notwithstanding  the  almost  uni- 
versal rejoicing  it  occasioned,  we  were  more  disposed  to  com- 
miserate than  to  exult  in,  as  some  of  the  numerous  privations 
incident  to  his  new  position  became  apparent  to  us. 

The  patriotic  Lavalette  and  his  heroic  wife,  the  narrative  of 
whose  peril  and  escape  quickened  our  pulses,  had  also  their  meed 
of  sympathy.  Thus,  with  alternate  reading  and  fancy  work,  we 
contrived  to  finish  our  day,  uttering  now  and  then  a  thought  or 
a  good  wish  for  those  who  were  driving  fast  away  from  a  home 
which  had  been  so  long  theirs,  and  whom,  perhaps,  we  should 
see  no  more. 

Before  we  separated  for  the  night,  we  had  resolved  on  apply- 
ing to  my  father-for  permission  to  use  his  library,  and  to  cull  for 
ourselves  from  its  shelves. 

Carry  did  not  participate  in  this  application,  determined,  as  she 
said,  not  to  burden  her  mind  with  a  knowledge  of  things  for 
which  she  had  neither  use  nor  relish,  and  which  had  been  so 
much  condemned  by  her  dear  Miss  White  and  Father  Ossory. 

Dora  and  I  did  not  attempt  to  seduce  her  from  her  self-com- 
placency, nor  did  we  love  her  a  whit  less  for  her  difference  of 
taste. 

On  the  morrow,  our  dear  parents  reappeared  to  our  gladdened 
sight.  They  were  evidently  sad,  and  on  our  asking  my  mother 
privately  if  anything  unusual  disturbed  them,  she  said  that  my 
father  had  suffered  very  much  at  the  necessity  and  the  sudden- 
ness of  parting  with  two  persons  of  his  household  so  much 


JESUIT    HXECUTORSHIP.  41 

valued  as  Mr.  Rivers  and  Miss  White.  Dora  ventured  to  inquire 
further,  what  occasioned  this  necessity  and  suddenness,  but  my 
mother  simply  replied,  '  What  you,  at  present,  would  not  perhaps 
understand,  and  which  it  may  never  be  necessary  for  you  to 
know.' 

We  obtained  from  my  father  the  gratification  of  every  wish. 
The  library  had  lately  been  weeded  of  its  rubbish  by  Mr.  Rivers, 
so  that  the  keys  were  only  withheld  from  us  until  my  father  had 
removed  some  few  volumes  which  he  did  not  think  adapted  to 
our  use. 

After  this,  Dora  and  I  speedily  entered  on  our  catering,  and 
Boon  brought  to  hand  the  provision  we  required. 

We  passed  the  winter,  which  was  unusually  severe,  in  varied 
reading,  without  regretting,  after  we  had  once  learnt  to  regulate 
ourselves,  that  we  had  been  thrown  upon  our  own  discretion. 
Caroline,  who  spent  almost  all  her  time  with  my  mother,  was 
wonderfully  improved,  both  in  intelligence  and  sweetness  of 
manners,  by  her  society,  keeping  up  her  music  by  singing  and 
playing  daily,  for  her  mother's  pleasure  and  her  own. 

Our  winter's  reading,  though  highly  gratifying  to  my  sister  and 
myself,  had  a  somewhat  different  effect  on  us  individually ;  per- 
haps owing  to  the  different  tastes  exercised  in  the  selection  of 
our  authors.  For  myself,  I  was  more  than  ever  convinced  of  the 
errors  I  had  imbibed  in  my  childhood,  and  of  the  much  I  had 
yet  to  unlearn  before  I  could  attain  to  any  certain  knowledge  of 
religious  truth ;  while  Dora,  more  delighted  with  the  arguments 
she  had  acquired  to  aid  her  wit  than  impressed  with  the  serious 
nature  of  the  topics  on  which  she  exercised  it,  evasively,  if  not 
sceptically,  still  asked,  '  What  is  truth  ?' 

With  respect  to  confession,  our  respect  for  which  was  effectu- 
ally undermined,  Dora  and  I  were  avowedly  at  variance.  I  had 
in  my  heart  for  ever  renounced  it ;  but  not  daring  to  acknow- 
ledge the  renunciation,  I  sought  to  evade  the  practice  by  avoid- 
ing the  priest ;  determined  that,  should  I  be  compelled  to  account 
for  the  omission,  I  would  express  my  convictions,  and  acknow- 
ledge the  new  views  I  had  acquired. 

My  sister  asserted  her  determination  to  continue  the  practice, 
for  the  present  at  least,  as  she  knew  not  how,  she  said,  otherwise 


42  HELEN  MULQRAVE;  OR, 

to  relieve  herself  of  the  remorse  of  having  so  often  laughed  at 
the  church's  solemn  jugglery  in  many  of  the  most  holy  things 
incorporated  in  her  creeds. 


CHAPTER  V. 

I  HAD  repeatedly,  during  the  winter,  been  reminded  in  a  brief 
and  gentle  remark  by  Father  Ossory,  that  I  was  perilously  omit- 
ting the  duties  of  the  '  confessional.'  To  this  I  had  never 
attempted  any  reply. 

One  morning,  as  I  went  into  the  library  at  a  very  early  honr, 
I  found  the  good  father  seated  there,  with  two  Bibles  before  him, 
of  which  he  was  turning  over  the  leaves. 

Such  an  occupation  surprised  me,  and  seeing  that  I  observed 
what  he  was  doing,  he  remarked  that  he  was  comparing  the  Pro- 
testant and  Catholic  Bibles  with  each  other,  in  order  to  ascertain 
the  amount  of  their  verbal  differences;  but  he  closed  the  books 
as  I  approached  the  table. 

My  late  studies,  as  they  were  alien  to  his  views,  had  created  in 
my  own  mind  a  corresponding  feeling  of  alienation  from  him,  for 
which,  as  I  now  beheld  him,  my  heart  smote  me,  and  I  knelt  at 
the  table  which  stood  betwixt  us,  to  ask  his  blessing. 

When  he  had  pronounced  it,  he  buried  his  face  in  his  hands, 
and  leant  on  the  table. 

I  rose  from  my  knees,  and  apologizing  to  him  for  having 
unconsciously  intruded  on  his  privacy,  was  leaving  the  room, 
when  he  said,  '  My  child,  I  certainly  did  not  expect  to  see  you 
here  at  so  early  an  hour ;  but  as  a  room  open  to  all,  there  can  be 
no  intrusion  in  your  entering  it  at  any  hour,  although  you  should 
find  another  here  before  you.  I  rather  think,  as  you  are  in  the 
habit  of  frequenting  it  and  I  am  not,  the  apology  for  intrusion 
should  come  from  me  instead  of  you.  But  let  us  not  spend  pre- 
cious time  in  settling  an  unimportant  question  of  etiquette; 
rather  let  us  avail  ourselves  of  an  opportunity  which,  wisely 
used,  may,  with  God's  blessing,  redound  to  his  glory,  if  it  but 
awaken  a  soul  to  the  sense  of  duty  neglected  and  of  safety 
imperilled.' 


JESUIT   EXEeUTORSHIP.  43 

Seeing  that  it  was  now  impossible  to  retire  without,  at  least, 
a  conversation  with  Father  Ossory,  I  endeavoured  to  rally  my 
thoughts,  and  muster  courage  for  it. 

But  tears  were  more  ready  than  words,  and  would  not  be 
restrained.  Though  not  in  the  confessional,  the  solemn  thoughts 
that  filled  my  soul  seemed  to  make  it  a  duty,  even  to  God,  that 
I  should  be  as  sincere  and  unreserved  as  though  in  confession 
before  him. 

While  I  wept  and  scanned  the  task  before  me,  Father  Ossory 
again  buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  as  if  not  wishing  to  restrain 
my  tears,  but  to  await  in  patience  their  cessation. 

'  "Will  you  allow  me,  good  father,'  I  said  at  length,  '  to  inquire 
whether  your  opinion  of  the  Bible,  as  a  book  for  my  use,  is  at  all 
changed  since  I  last  heard  your  sentence  on  it?'  He  did  not 
reply,  and  I  continued — '  I  find  more  than  ever  the  want  of  that 
book,  good  father ;  for  although  I  have  read  many  volumes  con- 
taining allusions  to  it,  and  even  quotations  from  it,  yet  the  sup- 
ply has  been  too  scanty  to  satisfy  my  inquiries ;  and  although  I 
am  aware  that  you  consider  me  as  having  been  seduced  from 
both  duty  and  faith  by  the  perusal  of  that  sacred  book,  I  find 
myself  still  yearning  for  a  further  knowledge  of  it.' 

'My  child,'  said  the  father,  in  somewhat  of  a  stern  voice, 
'your  words  are  still  wilful.  They  are  a  vindication  of  the 
wrong  for  which  I  have  heretofore  reproved  you,  and  of  that 
swerving  still  further  from  duty  which  so  much  alarmed  me  in 
our  last  conference.  As  a  child  of  the  Holy  Catholic  church, 
you  have  no  right  to  ask  questions,  or  to  entertain  doubts,  on 
points  of  faith  which  the  church  has  settled,  and  of  which  you 
require  no  explanation,  but  that  of  your  spiritual  teachers.  I 
have  heretofore  cautioned  you  to  beware  of  yourself,  and  to 
suppress  that  wilful  spirit  of  inquiry  which  you  have  shown, 
and  which  will  inevitably  lead  you  astray. 

''Suffer  again  that  admonition,  and  permit  me  to  say,  that 
although  I  willingly  listen  to  any  inquiry  which  you  may 
address  to  me,  I  cannot  allow  you  to  give  strength  to  your  errors 
by  a  too  confident  exposition  of  unauthorized  opinions,  except 
in  the  confessional.' 

4  Oh,  reverend  father,  it  would  be  impossible  for  me  at  thifl 


44  HELEN  MULGRAVE;  OR, 

moment  to  attempt  confession,  but  I  am  endeavouring  to  be  as 
sincere  in  the  expression  of  my  thoughts  and  feelings  as  though 
I  knelt  before  you  in  the  actual  performance  of  it.' 

The  father  bent  his  head,  and  said,  '  Have  you  been  in  posses- 
sion of  the  Bible,  or  perused  it  at  all,  since  I  last  prohibited  it, 
my  child  ?' 

'  No,  father ;  I  have  not  even  seen  a  Bible  since  that  interdic- 
tion.' 

4  So  far,  well.  Yet  I  must  believe  from  your  own  expression, 
that  the  abstinence  has  not  been  voluntary.  I  would  fain  hope, 
however,  that  the  departure  of  our  Protestant  inmates  may  bo 
beneficial  to  you.  But  if  the  Protestant  Bible  is  to  replace 
them,  the  benefit  will  bo  rendered  nugatory.' 

'Father,  will  you  permit  me  to  remark,  that  our  blessed 
Saviour  says,  speaking  to  those  around  him,  "  Search  the  Scrip- 
tures." There  seems  to  be  no  restriction  in  this  precept.  To 
tae,  indeed,  the  Bible  appears  to  have  been  written  for  the 
unlearned,  so  clear,  so  simple  is  its  style,  that,  to  use  its  own 
expressive  words,  "A  wayfaring  man,  though  a  fool,  shall  not 
err  therein."  ' 

'You  seem  to  have  perused  this  book  with  deep  attention, 
daughter.  May  I  inquire  ^if  its  intrinsic  attraction  was  unaided 
by  extrinsic  influence  ?  Had  the  Protestant  marquis  no  part  in 
your  sudden  appreciation  of  the  simplicity  of  the  Bible,  as  you 
have  described  its  style  to  be  ?' 

I  was  so  much  moved  at  this  sudden  and  unexpected  introduc- 
tion of  Monsieur  de  Grammont's  name  in  connexion  with  a  sub- 
ject so  sacred,  and  yet  with  which  he  was  so  much  associated, 
that  for  a  moment  my  mind  almost  lost  its  balance.  But  reco- 
vering myself,  without,  as  I  hoped,  betraying  emotion,  I  endea- 
voured to  resume  the  lofty  subject  on  which  we  had  been  dis- 
coursing without  noticing  the  attempt  of  the  father  to  ascertain 
the  state  of  my  feelings  towards  Monsieur  de  Grammont.  His 
tone  and  manner  at  the  moment,  in  connexion  with  subsequent 
occurrences,  induced  me  to  suspect  he  had  been  commissioned 
to  probe  me  on  this  subject.  He  rose  from  his  seat,  took  a  turn 
round  the  room,  and  returning  to  it,  visibly  disconcerted,  said 
emphatically,  '  My  child,  there  are  no  disguises  before  "God,  and 


JESUIT  EXECUTORSHIP.  45 

there  should  be  none  before  his  minister.  Even  that  sentiment 
which  "  many  waters  cannot  quench,  or  the  floods  drown,"  is 
incapable  of  concealment  from  him.  Bethink  you  well,  then,  of 
the  solemnity  of  your  position  at  this  moment,  and  trifle  not 
with  it.' 

'From  Him  who  sees  the  thoughts  afar  off,  there  can,  I  know, 
be  no  concealment.  But  I  had  supposed  myself  only  conferring 
with  a  spiritual  friend,  and  not  a  confessor,  at  this  moment.' 

He  looked  sternly  at  me,  but  I  continued,  '  As  you  have  men- 
tioned Monsieur  de  Grammont's  name,  father,  I  will  not  deny 
that  his  superior  knowledge  of  the  Bible  and  of  religion  was 
kindly  employed  to  enlighten  me  on  those  subjects.  Yet  he  did 
not  use  his  powers  to  convert  me  to  his  own  particular  faith, 
although  I  was  childish  enough  to  attempt  to  proselyte  him  to 
mine.  But  certainly  I  did  so  before  I  had  seen  that  book  on 
which  his  faith  is  built.' 

'  Ah,  my  poor  child !  your  awakening  was,  I  fear,  rather  to  the 
love  of  the  creature  than  the  Creator.  You  have  been  making 
"an  idol,  which  you  have  found  to  be  clay."  This  is  a  folly 
committed  once  in  their  lives,  at  least,  by  most  human  beings. 
But  in  your  case,  your  extreme  youth  is  some  palliation  of  it. 
Be  more  diligent  in  the  performance  of  your  devotions ;  try  the 
efficacy  of  fasts  on  saints'  days ;  and  above  all  things,  forget  not 
your  rosary,  and  you  may  yet  be  forgiven.' 

'  Alas  !  father,  there  is,  I  fear — and  yet  I  shudder  to  suppose 
I  am  right — no  efficacy  in  the  rosary.' 

The  father  quickly  turned  his  eyes  upon  me  with  a  look  of 
horror.  '  What  do  I  hear  1  the  ordinances  of  the  church  con- 
temned by  a  child  of  your  age!  Forbear,  and. sin  no  more! 
When  I  last  counselled  you,  I  commended  you  to  the  good  offices 
of  the  holy  Mother.  Have  you  sought  her  mediation?  Have 
you  read  the  selections  and  legends  I  sent  you,  to  enlighten  and 
conlinn  you  in  the  faith?' 

'  Yes,  good  father,  and  with  an  earnest  desire  to  discern  and 
appreciate  the  instruction  therein.  But  I  find  the  legends 
absurd, — I  fear  I  shock  you,  good  father,  but  I  have  pledged 
myself  to  speak  truthfully  of  the  new  views  I  entertain,  how 
disparaging  soever  they  may  be  to  myself,  or  displeasing  to  you. 


46  HELEN  MULORAVB;  OR, 

Many  of  the  legends  I  find  too  ridiculous  for  belief,  and  the 
offices  and  powers  conferred  by  the  church  on  the  holy  Mother, 
fabulous,  and  unsupported  by  Scripture.' 

'Daughter,  your  alienation  from  our  holy  church  inaniiVsf.-; 
itself  in  almost  every  sentence  you  utter.  Return,  I  besix-rli 
you,  to  the  humility  and  deference  essential  to  your  age.  Con- 
tinue your  trust  in  those  appointed  to  direct  you,  and  assume  not 
a  responsibility  which  they  are  willing  to  bear  for  you.  You 
have  spoken  of  the  legends  you  have  been  taught  in  the 
Catholic  religion  as  "too  ridiculous  for  belief,  and  opposed  to  all 
common  sense  I"  I  shall,  no  doubt,  be  able  to  clear  our  church 
from  such  imputations ;  but  this  is  not  the  time  nor  the  place. 

'  Before  terminating  our  present  conference,  I  must  tell  you, 
that  until  you  again  seek  my  advice  in  the  confessional,  I  think 
it  necessary  to  impose  on  you  the  penance  of  abstaining,  not 
only  from  the  reading  of  the  Scriptures,  but  of  all  other  theo- 
logical writings  except  those  which  are  sanctioned  by  the 
church.' 

Here  the  good  father  ceased  to  speak.  He  appeared  both  agi- 
tated and  weary,  and  remained  for  some  minutes  leaning  on  the 
table  in  silence. 

lie  then  rose,  and  saying  'Farewell, my  child!'  hastily  left  the 
room. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

the  family  assembled  at  dinner,  I  found  amongst  them 
both  Father  Ossory  and  the  bishop.  My  uncle  had,  indeed,  been 
often  with  us  of  late,  and  seemed  to  have  affairs  of  business 
with  my  father,  with  whom  I  had  observed  he  was  frequently 
closeted.  My  curiosity  was  not  excited  by  this;  but  for  the  first 
time,  on  this  day  I  became  sensible  of  a  very  altered  deportment 
on  the  part  of  my  dear  father,  who  was  indeed  dearer  to  me 
than  I  can  express. 

lie  who  had  been  wont  at  table  to  take  part  in  every  pleasant 
sally  of  thought,  and  to  enter  with  ready  interest  into  every 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  47 

subject  discussed,  performed  the  honours  of  his  table  so  silently, 
mechanically,  and  even  negligently,  that  it  was  impossible  not 
to  perceive  he  must  either  be'very  unwell  or  greatly  depressed. 

I  became  so  restless  and  distressed  at  what  I  saw  that  I  could 
take  no  pleasure  in  anything  around  me.  It  was  easy  to  see 
that  even  my  uncle  was  making  an  effort  to  appear  cheerful, 
and  to  converse  as  usual  with  Father  Ossory. 

My  mother,  spoke  only  now  and  then,  in  under-tones,  to  those 
who  sat  next  her,  while  my  father  helped  himself  to  different 
dishes,  sending  each  plate  away,  in  succession,  without  tasting 
its  contents. 

As  my  seat  at  table  was  always  at  his  right  hand,  I  had  an 
opportunity  of  observing  him  more  than  any  other  of  the  party ; 
and  being  in  the  habit  of  exchanging  with  him,  in  the  intervals 
of  the  dinner,  those  little  fondnesses  which  might  be  supposed 
to  pass  betwixt  sdch  a  father  and  a  petted  child,  I  was  more 
affected  by  his  forgetfulness  of  me  on  this  day  than  can  be 
imagined. 

When  my  mother  and  her  daughters  were  quitting  the  table, 
my  father  desired  us  to  take  William,  who  had  only  returned 
home  on  that  morning,  with  us. 

Of  course,  upon  this  hint  he  accompanied  us  to  the  drawing- 
room,  where  we  assembled  only  to  sit  as  it  were  silent  and  spell- 
bound. 

My  mother  applied  herself  to  netting,  but  in  so  languid  and 
abstracted  a  manner  as  to  entangle  and  spoil  her  work ;  while 
my  sisters  and  myself  sat  apart,  exchanging  anxious  and  inquir- 
ing looks. 

My  brother  soon  left  us,  when  I  approached  my  mother,  and 
throwing  my  arms  around  her,  coaxed  her  to  tell  me  what  had 
occurred  to  disturb  my  father.  She  pressed  me  in  her  arms,  and 
kissed  me,  as  she  said;  in  a  sad,  low  voice,  '  I  believe  he  is 
troubled  about  family  affairs 

I  observed  that  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears,  and  did  not  inquire 
further.  But  my  imagination  was  on  a  wide  sea  of  conjecture 
in  a  moment. 

The  utter  ignorance  in  which  we  had  always  been  kept  of  all 
pecuniary  matters  prevented  them  from  being  thought  of  at  ttis 


48  HELEN  MULOUAVK;  OR, 

Instant.  What  then  could  have  occurred?  My  brother  had 
been  absent  all  the  winter.  Could  he  have  oflfended  my 
father  ?  Or  was  there  any  breach  betwixt  my  uncle  and  him  ? 
'But  Father  Ossory  will  mediate,'  said  I,  'and  make  all  right, 
perhaps  to-morrow,  and  then,  the  cloud  will  have  passed  away.' 

The  entrance  of  the  gentlemen,  when  coffee  was  announced, 
suspended  my  reflections ;  and  when,  after  it  was  taken  away, 
my  mother  and  they  formed  a  party  at  whist,  I  felt  at  liberty  to 
chat  awhile  with  Dora.  Caroline  had  absorbed  herself  in  the 
book  she  was  reading,  and  I  did  not,  therefore,  interrupt  her. 
Advancing  to  Dora,  who  seemed  to  be  turning  over  leaves  with- 
out reading,  I  looked  over  her  shoulder,  observing,  in  a  whis- 
per, '  You  are  a  very  listless  reader.  What  is  your  book  ?' 

'  That  which  you  recommended,'  she  replied.  '  Nothing  less, 
forsooth !  than  a  ponderous  ecclesiastical  octavo.  If  you  had 
selected  your  '  Historical .  Primer,'  or  the  'History  of  Mother 
Bunch,'  it  would  have  better  suited  me ;  as  I  am  in  no  mood 
for  adding  to  the  penance  inflicted  by  the  unaccountable  depres- 
sion so  visible  both  in  papa  and  mamma.  Only  look !  even  now, 
with  the  cards  in  their  hands,  they  seem  scarcely  to  know  one 
suit  from  another;  but  are  making  revokes  and  blunders  of 
every  sort.  What  can  be  the  matter  ?' 

I  shook  my  head ;  when  she  turned  to  me  with  a  playful  air, 
and  said,  'By  the  bye,  little  Nelly,  did  you  recommend  this 
leaden  history  to  me  with  the  pious  motive  of  making  me  as 
great  a  heretic  as  yourself?  I  tell  you  what,  little  girl,  as  you 
are  going  on,  you  will  get  into  some  dungeon  or  niche  of  the 
Holy  Inquisition  some  day  or  other,  if  you  do  not  retrace  your 
fclop-s.  I  am  your  elder,  remember,  and  have  therefore  a  right 
to  counsel  you,  so  take  what  I  say,  gravely.' 

'  Why,  Dora,'  I  replied,  '  you  sometimes  seem  to  be  as  much 
alive  to  what  is  absurd  in  the  practices  of  our  church  as  I  am  ; 
although  you  will  not  consent  to  its  being  of  sufficient  impor- 
tance to  be  resisted  seriously.  Perhaps  you  do  not  consider 
that  you  are  in  any  way  responsible  for  either  the  right  or  the 
wrong  of  what  has  been  taught  you  under  the  auspices  of  tho 
priesthood?  But  do  not  deceive  yourself.  After  a  certain  age, 
if  we  use  not  the  talents  of  understanding  aad  judgment 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  49 

bestowed  on  us  by  the  Creator,  we  are  accountable  to  him,  not 
only  for  the  omission,  but  for  the  errors  we  fall  into  in  conse- 
quence of  it.' 

'I  dare  say  you  are  right,  Helen,'  said  my  sister,  resuming 
her  book.  After  a  few  minutes,  she  again  turned  to  me,  with, 
1  You  are  a  very  good  little  poppet,  Nelly,  but  you  should  not 
forget  that  I  am  your  eldest  sister,  and  that  I  could  talk  long 
before  you  could  walk ;  and  although  you  rather  over-top  me  in 
stature,  you  should  remember  what  is  due  to  age.  Come,  now, 
that  is  quite  in  your  own  sage  and  reverent  style ;  and  while  my 
gravity  lasts,  let  me  ask  you,  why  you  did  not,  when  you  could, 
run  away  with  that  dear,  handsome  Protestant  marquis?  Such 
a  little  Huguenot  as  you  are  ought  never  to  marry  a  Catholic ; 
and  I  am  afraid  you  will  not  again  have  an  opportunity  of  get- 
ting a  Protestant  husband.  Hey,  Nelly !  where  in  the  world  do 
these  great  drops  come  from  that  are  running  down  your 
cheeks  ?  You  really  must  compose  your  spirits,  if  you  mean  to 
succeed,  and  not  break  your  heart  with  sobs,  and  spoil  your 
pretty  face  with  salt  and  corrosive  tears.  Who  knows  but  they 
may  leave  traces  that  can  never  be  effaced  ?  Depend  upon  it, 
they  are  prettier  in  poetry —  * 

"  Sweet  drops  of  pure  and  pearly  light  1" 

as  they  are,  than  they  can  possibly  be  in  practice.' 

4  Oh,  Dora !  how  can  you  be  so  unkind  and  so  ridiculous !  Do 
you  think  tears  are  ever  shed  for  effect?' 

4  To  be  sure  they  are,  my  little  greenhorn.  Do  you  suppose 
we  are  all  as  simple  and  sincere  as  you  are?  But  I  see  the 
shower  is  over  now,  and  we  may  speak  of  husbands  without 
crying;  although  I  am  sure  /have  a  right  to  cry,  if  I  chose ;  for, 
will  you  believe  it,  papa  has  actually  obliged  me  to  refuse  our 
neighbour  on  the  other  side  of  the  lake,  Sir  Lucius  MacNeil, 
with  his  fine  estates  and  handsome  figure  ?' 

4  Are  you  quizzing,  Dora  ?' 

'  Not  a  bit,  Nelly ;  it  is  quite  true.' 
/    4  When  did  it  happen  ?' 

4  Some  weeks  ago.' 

4  And  you  did  not  tell  mo  of  it  ?' 
3 


50  HELEN    MULGBAVE  J    OR, 

'  Why,  indeed,  Nelly,  I  was  too  vexed  to  talk  about  it  ?  But 
I  think  papa  should  have  some  consideration  for  our  feelings.' 

4  Dear  Dora,  do  you  really  take  the  thing  to  heart.  Depend 
upon  it,  papa  has  reasons  for  his  refusal  which  we  know  not  of.' 

'  No,  no,  Nelly,  I  do  not  think  he  has  any  cause  for  it  but  his 
exceeding  fondness  for  us  all.  You  know  that  neither  he  nor 
mamma  can  bear  to  have  us  out  of  their  sight ;  but  they  should 
not  let  pleasant  people  come  amongst  us,  if  we  are  not  to  like 
them,  should  they  ?  But  see,  the  whist  party  is  broken  up,  the 
tray  is  coming,  and  we  may  now  retire.  Come,  let  us  go  to  our 
own  room  ;  Caroline  is  moving,  and  will  go  with  us.  "  Papa  and 
mamma  look  very  ill ;  let  us  inquire  if  they  wish  us  to  stay. 
Indeed,  I  feel  uneasy  at  leaving  them.' 

I  crept  to  my  father's  side,  and  putting  my  arm  in  his,  asked 
if  he  was  better. 

1  Better  I  Do  not  ask  me,  darling.  I  cannot  talk  to  you  to- 
night. Go  to  bed,  and  sleep  soundly,  that  you  may  rise  in 
health  and  strength  to-morrow.  Good  night!  Helen,  go  to 
your  uncle  for  a  moment.' 

My  uncle  received  me  kindly,  but  gravely ;  and  after  a  few 
words  with  him  and  Father  Ossory,  we  parted ;  and  kissing  our 
dear  mother,  we  all  left  the  room. 

It  was  early  in  May,  and  the  evening  was  chilly ;  but  when 
we  reached  our  boudoir,  an  apartment  appropriated  solely  to  our 
use,  we  found  a  snug  little  fire,  which  my  own  maid,  Mary, 
expecting  us  there,  had  ordered  to  be  made.  Nothing  coiild  be 
more  comforting  than  this  little  provision  of  brightness  and 
warmth ;  and  as  its  light  was  reflected  in  the  china  tiles  of  the 
fireplace,  the  whole  arrangement  presented  so  cozy  and  inviting 
an  aspect,  that  our  trio  were  soon  settled  round  it,  with  a  feel- 
ing of  satisfaction  that  portended  a  long  sitting.  We  remained 
silent  for  some  time,  as  if  by  common  consent.  There  may  be 
cavillers  who  will  doubt  the  truth  of  this  assertion,  in  reference 
to  three  young  girls,  in  a  place  where  there  was  no  restraint  on 
their  loquacity,  except,  perchance,  the  seriousness  of  their  own 
thoughts.  Nevertheless,  I  must  assert  that  it  was  as  I  havd 
stated,  a  fact  whiph  will  perhaps  establish  more  than  the  mere 
possibility  of  the  thing,  and  prove  that  the  vice  of  endless  talk- 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  51 

ing  is  a  charge  unjustly  made,  when  fastened  on  the  whole  female 
world.  It  must  be  admitted  that  the  obscure  and  shadowy 
aspect  of  the  room  was  itself  calculated  to  impose  silence  on  us, 
if  we  had  been  at  all  disposed  to  be  imaginative,  especially  as 
we  were  in  the  vicinity  of  some  of  the  deserted,  and  therefore 
haunted,  chambers  of  the  house. 

But  we  needed  not  the  recollection  of  this  circumstance  to  aid 
the  exercise  of  fancy  in  deciphering  the  mystic  character  of  the 
objects  around  us.  The  single  lamp  which  lighted  the  room 
was  hung,  in  accommodation  to  a  lofty  mantel-piece,  so  far 
above  what  it  was  designed  to  illuminate,  that  as  its  feeble  rays 
fell  on  the  objects  around,  they  might  have  been  supposed 
shadows,  rather  than  the  shapes  of  anything  either  in  '  heaven 
above,  or  the  earth  beneath ;'  and  the  fitful  gleams  of  firelight, 
as  they  flickered  on  their  undefined  forms,  did  but  mystify  them 
the  more,  leaving  it  wholly  to  the  imagination  to  decide  on  the 
region  or  class  to  which  they  pertained. 

Charmed  by  the  scope  thus  afforded  to  idle  fancies,  and 
happy,  at  this  moment,  in  the  society,  as  well  as  the  silence,  of 
my  darling  sisters,  I  know  not  how  long  I  might  have  continued 
to  gaze  on  the  tapestried  walls,  or  to  invoke  their  speechless 
forms,  had  not  Dora  broken  the  spell,  by  asking  me  what  I 
thought  of  the  presentiments  so  much  indulged  in  by  French 
people,  and  so  often  alluded  to  in  their  conversation. 

'  Do  not  ask  me,  Dora,  for  an  opinion  on  what  I  know 
nothing.  I  do  not  wish  to  believe  in  presentiments,  because  I 
fear  that  "  sufficient  for  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof."  Perhaps  I 
may  be  thought  too  young  to  have  arrived  at  such  a  conclusion ; 
but  I  begin  to  think  that  the  bright  morning  of  life  is  already 
past  with  me,  and  that  I  have  now  only  to  collect  my  strength 
for  endurance,  not  for  enjoyment.  It  is  the  too  happy,  if  such 
there  are,  that  love  to  shade  present  good  with  anticipated  evil. 
But  I  think  none  of  us,  at  present,  require  the  chastening  of  evil 
portents  to  sober  our  spirits.' 

As  we  thus  talked  on  one  subject  after  another,  the  witch- 
ing hour  approached,  and  still  found  us  loath  to  separate.  The 
lamp  was  nearly  spent,  and  the  fire,  burnt  to  a  mass  of  red  cin- 
ders, no  longer  emitted  a  single  rajywhen  a  sharp  stroke,  as  of 


52  HELEN    MULGRAVE  ;    OR, 

some  hard  substance,  fell  twice  or  thrice  on  the  window.  Wo 
all  rose  simultaneously,  for  we  knew  that  the  window  was  of  an 
inaccessible  height  from  the  ground,  and  quite  unapproachable 
OB  the  outside,  except  by  ladder.  Thoughts  of  many  things, 
which  we  did  not  then  utter,  rushed  upon  us  with  lightning 
speed. 

A  thick  lined  curtain  was  drawn  closely  across  the  window, 
and  a  Holland  blind  had  been  let  down  over  the  glass  beneath, 
so  that  it  was  impossible  the  light  within  could  have  been  visi- 
ble enough  to  attract  the  attention  of  any  one  without.  We 
drew  back  the  curtain,  shook  out  its  folds,  and  drew  up  the 
blind ;  but  nothing  outside  was  to  be  seen  except  a  murky  sky, 
and  a  forest  of  half-clad  trees  in  the  distance.  We  then  exa- 
mined the  apartment,  thinking  it  possible  that  wo  might  have 
been  mistaken,  and  that  the  sound  might  not  have  proceeded 
from  the  window. 

With  a  hand-taper,  we  carefully  inspected  a  large  mirror, 
which  hung  from  the  ceiling  to  the  floor,  at  the  bottom  of  the 
room.  There  was  no  trace  of  damage  in  it,  but  we  shuddered 
at  the  sight  of  our  own  frightened  faces  and  attitudes,  as  dimly 
reflected  in  it  amidst  the  shadows  of  the  room. 

We  left  the  window  uncovered,  the  better  to  see,  as  well  as  to 
hear,  if  the  attack  upon  it  should  be  repeated.  We  were  scarce- 
ly seated  round  the  fire,  when  the  stroke  on  the  glass,  more 
sharp  and  loud  than  before,  was  again  struck  two  or  three 
times.  In  a  moment  we  were  all  before  the  window,  when,"  to 
our  astonishment,  we  beheld  a  large  bird,  apparently  black, 
facing  the  window,  and  flapping  his  wings  violently.  But  in 
the  twinkling  of  an  eye  he  flew  off  with  a  rapidity  that  made 
it  impossible  to  discern  the  direction  he  took 

All  this  had  occurred  so  instantaneously  that  we  gazed  mutely 
on  each  other  for  several  minutes ;  but  we  had,  at  any  rate,  dis- 
covered the  cause  of  our  alarm,  and  so  far  it  was  satisfactory. 
The  object  of  the  unusual  visitant  was  not  so  easily  ascertained 
— for  although  our  rookery  was  not  far  off,  no  one  of  its  com- 
munity had  ever  before  made  so  bold  an  advance  to  acquaint- 
anceship. 

We  now  thought  it  high  time  to  retire,  and  rang  for  the  Ber- 


JESUIT    EXKCUTORSHIP.  53 

vants,  who,  on  hearing  our  recital,  were  blanched  with  terror. 
But  emotion  of  any  sort  is  in  some  degree  pleasurable,  especially 
to  the  untutored  mind,  which  no  doubt  often  grows  weary  of 
the  narrow  bound  of  thought  within  which  it  is  confined. 
Almost  anything,  therefore,  that  breaks  the  monotony  of  its 
ideas,  is  hailed  with  cordiality. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

I  WAS  fortunate  enough,  while  undressing,  to  hear  Mary's  com- 
ments on  the  occurrence  of  the  evening.  She  was  well  skilled 
in  the  lore  of  omens,  and  spoke  solemnly  on  all  the  possible 
indications  of  the  mysterious  visitation.  I  listened  to  her  with 
an  interest  which  I  should,  perhaps,  have  been  ashamed  to  own 
on  the  morrow,  if  that  morrow  had  risen  upon  us  as  all  former 
days  had  done. 

In  our  times,  when  rigid  research  tears  open  all  hidden  things 
— scowling  on  whatever  resists  analysis — there  is  no  covert  left 
for  anything  "  of  fancy  born ;"  and  the  dreams  of  poets  and 
the  abstractions  of  metaphysicians  are  cast  away,  like  the  idols 
of  an  exploded  superstition,  to  "  the  moles  and  the  bats."  But 
I  had  been  rocked  in  the  cradle  of  legends,  and  reared  in  the 
land  of  traditionary  marvels, — no  wonder,  therefore,  if  some  of 
its  dreamy  creations  had  established  themselves  in  my  brain. 

I  had  just  composed  myself  to  sleep,  when  the  door  of  my 
chamber  was  softly  opened,  and  my  sister  Caroline,  with  a  taper 
in  her  hand,  came  on  tiptoe  to  my  bedside,  and  bending  over 
me,  said,  in  a  hurried  whisper — 

'  Helen,  I  could  not  sleep  without  coming  to  tell  you  that  I 
think  I  have  discovered  the  cause  of  papa's  inquietude.  Do 
you  remember,  one  day  last  summer,  when  Dora  and  .1  were 
walking  in  the  wood,  near  the  old  Tower,  how  excessively  we 
were  frightened  by  a  woman  of  a  tall  and  imposing  figure,  who 
came  suddenly  upon  us,  with  .menacing  looks,  and  mysteriou* 
words  about  papa  and  his  estates,  and  her  wrongs  ?' 


64  HELEN    MULGBAVB  ;    OR, 

1  Yes,  yes,  I  remember  well.' 

'  And  how,  in  our  alarm,  we  gave  her  money  to  get  rid  of 
her  ?' 

'  Yes,  yes,  go  on.' 

'  And  how  annoyed  and  angry  papa  was  when  we  told  him 
of  it?  He  said  he  knew  the  "  demon"  well  (that  was  his  word), 
and  would  have  her  expelled  from  the  neighbourhood,  and  we 
have  never  seen  her  since  ?' 

'  Yes,  yes,  I  know.' 

'  Well,  I  saw  her  again  the  other  day  ?  She  was  prowling 
about  the  lodge  gates,  muffled  up,  as  if  for  disguise,  when  papa 
and  I  came  througli  in  the  chariot,  from  our  visit  at  Moor  Hall. 
At  the  first  glance,  I  did  not  recognise  her,  although  I  remark- 
ed to  papa  what  very  fierce  eyes  she  had.  He  looked  out  of 
the  window  very  angrily  at  her,  while  the  gates  were  being 
opened.' 

'  "Well,  Caroline,'  said  I,  '  is  that  all  ?'  somewhat  disappointed 
at  her  recital,  and  wondering  at  her  hurried  manner. 

'  All,  Helen !  "Why  you  seem  to  think  nothing  of  the  re-ap- 
pearance of  that  dreadful  woman,  although  I  feel  sure  it  is  she, 
who,  in  some  way  or  other,  is  the  cause  of  poor  papa's  annoy- 
ance.' 

'  Nonsense,  Caroline  1  How  can  you  be  so  fanciful  ?  You  call 
me  fanciful,  but  this  fancy  is  absurd.  "What!  to  suppose  that  a 
wild  woman  like  this  can  have  power  to  affect  our  dear  father's 
spirits  or  interests,  is  not  to  be  thought  of  for  a  moment.'  "While 
I  was  speaking,  Caroline  set  down  her  taper,  and  moved  slowly 
off  to  the  window  at  the  foot  of  the  room,  and  drawing  aside 
the  curtain,  looked  for  a  second  or  two  into  the  park. 

'  Caroline,'  said  I,  '  you  will  take  cold  at  the  window,  in  that 
slight  dressing  gown.  Do  return  to  your  room,  and  go  to  bed; 
it  is  already  past  one  o'clock.'  She  made  no  answer,  but  beckon- 
ing me  to  her,  said,  almost  in  a  whisper,  'Put  out  the  light!' 

I  sprang  out  of  bed,  and  obeying  her  directions,  was  in  an 
instant  at  her  side,  and  looking  into  the  park  in  the  same  direc- 
tion as  herself. 

'There — there!'  said  she, 'before  that  large  fir-tree!'  I 
looked — and  at  some  hundred  paces  from  the  castle,  standing  on 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  55 

the  open  lawn,  in  front  of  the  tree,  I  beheld  a  figure  perfectly 
motionless  ;  and  was  questioning  with  myself  whether  it  were  a 
human  being  or  not,  when  a  bright  moon  emerged  from  behind 
a  heavy  cloud,  and  its  beams  falling  on  the  figure,  clearly 
revealed  the  outline  of  a  very  tall  female,  apparently  gazing  on 
the  castle.  We  clung  together,  in  breathless  curiosity.  The 
figure  came  forward  a  pace  or  two,  and  extending  its  long  arms 
to  heaven,  began  to  wave  them  up  and  down  wildly.  This 
dumb  show  lasted  a  minute  or  two,  during  which  she  moved 
slowly  backwards,  until  we  had  lost  sight  of  her  amidst  the 
shadows  of  the  trees.  We  continued  to  watch  a  few  minutes 
longer,  gazing  on  the  spot  whence  she  had  vanished ;  but  she  did 
not  return. 

'How  strange  and  frightful !'  said  Caroline,  still  in  a  whisper, 
as  if  afraid  to  hear  her  own  voice.  '  What  can  it  mean  ?' 

'  She  must  be  insane,'  I  replied.  '  But  if  she  be  even  the 
woman  you  suppose,  it  is  utterly  improbable  she  can  have  any 
influence  upon  our  household.  Ah,  no !  Caroline,  it  is  something 
more  serious  than  that  which  disturbs  papa !' 

'  I  hope  you  may  be  mistaken,  dear  Helen !  But  as  for  this 
"  demon,"  as  papa  calls  her,  be  she  witch  or  be  she  banshee,  we 
are  united  enough  to  defy  her  spells.1  And  throwing  her  arms 
around  me,  she  bade  me  good-night. 

******* 

On  the  following  morning  my  sisters  and  I  breakfasted  by  our- 
selves ;  papa  and  mamma  having  ordered  their  breakfast  in  their 
private  room.  We  had  scarcely  had  time  to  refer  at  all  to  the 
startling  occurrences  of  the  last  night,  when  a  message  by  a 
servant  requested  me  to  attend  my  father,  in  his  study.  There 
was  a  formality  in  the  manner  of  this  to  which  I  had  never  been 
accustomed.  Ordinarily,  if  my  father  had  wished  to  speak  to 
me  alone,  he  would  have  come  himself  to  fetch  me. 

I  proceeded  at  once  to  my  father's  study,  where  I  found  him 
walking  up  and  down  the  room  with  an  agitated  step.  Deep 
thought  was  on  his  brow ;  but  he  immediately  approached  me, 
and  taking  my  hand,  led  me  in  silence  to  a  chair.  As  he  shut 
the  door,  and  seated  himself  beside  me,  I  became  agitated  almost 
to  tears,  but  resolved  on  controlling  myself,  for  I  was  but  too 


50  HELEN  MULORAVE;  OR, 

sure  that  my  fortitude  was  about  to  be  tasked  to  the  uttermost, 
although  I  had  not  the  slightest  perception  of  what  might  be  the 
nature  of  the  communication  about  to  be  made  to  me. 

My  father  paused  some  minutes  before  he  spoke,  but  at  length 
said,  in  a  low  and  feeble  voice,  '  My  dear  Helen,  I  have  sent  for 
you  here  to  inform  you  of  something  which  it  is  necessary  for 
you  to  know  without  delay.  I  am  a  most  wretched  man,  and 
scarcely  able  to  speak  of  my  misfortunes!' 

I  had  already  fallen  on  my  knees  before  him,  and  taken  his 
hand. 

4  Circumstances,'  he  continued,  '  of  a  painful  but  imperative 
nature,  compel  me  to  part  with  you!'  He  said  no  more,  but 
covering  his  face  with  his  hands,  rose,  and  walked  to  another 
part  of  the  room. 

'Part  with  me!'  I  exclaimed,  'part  with  me?'  The  words 
had  struck  me  like  a  thunder-bolt,  and  almost  stupified  me.  I 
loved  my  father  tenderly  and  dutiously — what  could  I  have  done 
to  alienate  him  from  me  ?  '  Why  do  you  part  with  me,  my  dear 
father  ?'  said  I,  as  I  approached  him,  and  again  took  his  hand. 
'  Have  I  offended  you  ?  Oh !  what  have  I  done  ?' 

I  could  no  longer  restrain  my  tears.  My  father  looked  like  one 
stunned  and  insensible. 

'  It  was  my  intention,'  he  continued,  in  slow  and  broken  words, 
'  to  have  parted  with  you  without  the  pain  of  informing  you  of 
the  circumstances  which  have  made  so  agonizing  a  resolve  neces- 
sary. But  I  think,  my  dear  child,  you  are  reasonable  enough  to 
be  entrusted  with  my  confidence ;  and  I  hope  you  will  not  dis- 
appoint me  in  the  expectation  I  have  formed,  either  of  your 
judgment  or  your  fortitude.' 

He  then  proceeded  to  acquaint  me,  that  having  for  some  years 
been  living  beyond  his  income,  he  had  at  length  become  actually 
in  want  of  funds  to  discharge  pressing  debts.  His  brother,  the 
Bishop,  had  concerted  with  him,  he  said,  a  plan  of  retrenchment, 
which  he  offered  to  assist  by  taking  me  entirely  off  his  hands, 
and  making  such  provision  for  me  for  the  future  as  should  make 
me  independent. 

Alas !  what  a  communication  for  me  to  receive.  It  rendered 
me  incapable  of  reply,  and  compelled  me  to  be  silent  upon  every 


JESUIT   EXECUTOK8HIP.  57 

objection,  which  my  heart  was  passionately  making  against  this 
dreadful  separation.  My  father  in  debt,  and  unable  to  disem- 
barrass himself  but  by  my  banishment,  was  after  a  little  reflection 
the  sole  idea  that  occupied  me.  Hope,  however,  sprang  up  in 
my  heart.  It  was,  it  seemed,  in  my  power  to  assist  him,  and  as 
if  every  moment  of  my  stay  increased  his  misfortunes,  I  was 
seized  with  a  desire  of  instant  flight. 

I  begged  him  to  dispose  of  me  in  any  way  that  could  be  ser- 
viceable to  himself,  adding  only  one  condition — that  when  he 
should  have  surmounted  his  difficulties,  I  might  be  permitted 
again  to  return  to  that  dear  home  which  would  ever  be  to  me 
the  brightest  spot  on  earth.  '  We  will  not  talk  of  that  now,  my 
dear  child!'  said  my  father,  greatly  affected,  'I  had  confided  in 
your  dutiful  and  affectionate  sentiments  in  advance,  and  your 
present  conduct  proves  that  my  confidence  was  not  misplaced. 
And  now,  my  love,  we  understand  each  other.  You  are  not 
required  to  forget  those  you  leave,  my  dear  Helen,  although  I 
fear  you  must  take  of  them  a  long  farewell,  as  one  part  of  my 
system  of  retrenchment  is  to  quit  Mulgrave  Castle,  and  spend 
some  years  on  the  Continent,  perhaps  iu  Germany.' 

This  last  information  was  far  more  stunning  than  the  first.  To 
be  thus  separated,  by  sea  and  land,  from  all  I  most  loved  on 
earth, — -to  be  unable  to  think  of  Mulgrave  Castle  but  as  deserted 
of  everything  that  had  rendered  it  dear  to  me — to  be  obliged  to 
sever  it  at  once  from  its  association  with  whatever  had  blessed 
my  existence,  and  no  longer  to  find  there  an  occasional  home,  or 
even  an  asylum  for  my  thoughts,  during  the  cruel  banishment 
that  awaited  me — was  too  much,  even  for  the  fortitude  which 
filial  love  had  inspired.  I  threw  myself  into  my  father's  arms, 
speechless,  and  gasping  for  breath.  I  heard  his  deep  and  stifled 
sobs  as  I  lay  on  his'  breast,  and  I  know  not  how  long  these 
moments  of  bitter  feeling  might  have  lasted,  had  not  my  father 
endeavoured  to  shorten  them  by  disengaging  himself  from  me, 
and  begging  me  to  leave  him. 

'  Allow  me  to  stay  but  one  moment  longer,'  said  I ;  'on  my 
knees  I  entreat  that  I  may  accompany  you  to  the  Continent.  I 
want  nothing — I  never  shall  want  anything  that  you  have  not 
to  bestow.  I  renounce  my  uncle's  proffered  wealth,  and  every- 

3* 


58  HELEN    MULQRAVK  ;    OR, 

thing  else  that  must  banish  me  from  the  society  of  my  parents 
and  sisters.' 

'  You  will  ruin  me,  Helen  1'  exclaimed  my  father,  in  a  tone  of 
grief  and  alarm.  '  Do  you  imagine  this  sacrifice  is  greater  for 
you  than  for  me !  There  can  be  no  comparison  in  our  suffer- 
ings. But  it  is  a  matter  of  necessity,  and  must  be  submitted  to. 
Your  uncle's  assistance  is  indispensable  to  save  me  from  instant 
disgrace,  and  it  would  be  an  outrage  on  him  to  decline  the  gene- 
rous proposals  he  has  made  to  benefit  you.' 

What  could  I  reply  to  this?  I  had  now  wrung  from  my 
father  the  full  extent  of  his  humiliations.  I  had  caused  him  to 
suffer  more  than  was  necessary.  Yet  I  felt  my  repugnance  and 
my  terrors  again  coming  on  me,  and  to  spare  for  the  moment 
both  him  and  myself,  I  kissed  his  hand  in  token  of  submission, 
and  hurried  from  him. 

I  soon  reached  my  own  room,  and  locking  my  door,  aban- 
doned myself  to  the  agony  of  my  feelings.  But  in  solitude  we 
acquire  courage — reason  and  fortitude  assume  there  their  legiti- 
mate empire ;  the  influence  of  the  senses,  those  constant  traitors 
to  the  mind,  is  there  suspended ;  and  the  good  and  evil  of  life, 
stripped  in  part  of  their  illusions,  are  reduced  in  magnitude. 

I  made  my  appearance  at  dinner  with  far  more  composure 
than  I  had  expected.  We  were  without  guests;  but  it  was  a 
wretched  meal,  where  every  one  was  absorbed  in  the  same  pain- 
ful subject,  and  none  of  us  dared  to  raise  our  eyes,  lest  we 
might  encounter  looks  that  must  rob  us  of  our  self-control. 

When  the  servants  had  withdrawn,  and  iny  father  endea- 
voured to  break  the  oppressive  silence  by  mentioning  with  tran- 
quillity our  approaching  separation,  all  the  assumed  composure 
of  my  mind  forsook  me,  and  it  was  fortunate  for  us  all  that  my 
mother,  by  instantly  rising,  broke  up  the  pHrty.  I  saw  that  her 
heart  was  ready  to  break ;  tears  fell  from  her  eyes,  and  she 
moved  with  such  faltering  steps  that,  as  I  endeavored  to  support 
her,  her  appearance  quite  subdued  me.  As  she  seated  herself 
in  an  easy  chair  in  the  drawing-room,  I  placed  myself  on  a  low 
stool  at  her  feet. 

She  was  never  in  the  habit  of  leading  a  conversation ;  but  at 
this  time,  as  I  looked  up  in  her  face,  she  took  my  hand,  and 


JESUIT   EXECUTOBSHIP.  50 

said,  '  I  have  learned  what  a  good  girl  you  were  this  morning, 
in  papa's  study,  and  I  feel  proud  of  my  daughter's  heroism.  I 
wish,  my  darling,  I  had  a  little  of  your  courage  myself.  I  am 
ashamed  to  think  how  much  our  family  misfortunes  weigh  me 
down,  considering  that  this  kind  of  calamity  is  always  taking 
place  in  life.  But  to  those  who  suffer  for  the  first  time,  I  sup 
pose  it  always  appears  as  though  none  had  ever  suffered  so 
much  before.  Dora  and  Caroline,  why  are  you  so  far  oft  ? 
Come  to  this  part  of  the  room — more  into  our  circle.  Let  us 
keep  together  while  we  can.' 

My  sisters  were  sitting  apart,  shedding  silent  tears  at  a  dis- 
tance ;  but  at  this  invitation  they  sprang  instantly  towards  us, 
and  kneeling  before  my  mother,  seemed  to  await  some  commu- 
nication from  her.  But  no  one  spoke,  and  I  broke  the  silence  by 
exclaiming — '  Yes,  we  are  indeed  wretched  I  And  yet  you,  my 
dear  sisters,  have  comparatively  little  or  no  cause  for  being  so. 
The  state  of  papa's  finances  is  certainly  humiliating  and  distress- 
ing to  us  all;  but  it  is  I  who  am  the  victim!'  And  I  covered 
my  face  with  my  hands,  in  deep  anguish. 

1  Dearest  child,'  said  my  mother,  '  you  must  not  talk  thus.  I 
have  but  this  moment  praised  your  heroism,  and  has  it  already 
forsaken  you  ?' 

'  Oh,  mamma !  if  I  had  no  more  to  lose  than  you  and  my  sis- 
ters have,  you  should  not  hear  me  complain.  You  do  not  lose 
each  other.' 

'  What  do  you  mean,  love  ?'  said  my  mother. 

'  Dearest  mother,  are  not  you  and  my  sisters,  although  you 
leave  home,  going  away  together  ?  You  go  amongst  strangers, 
and  must  dispense  with  the  comforts  of  home ;  but  you  will  still 
enjoy  each  other's  society,  and  be  introduced  to  new  scenes, 
under  the  endearing  auspices  of  him  whom  we  all  so  much  love. 
"While  I, — bereaved  on  all  sides, — severed  at  every  point  from 
every  thing  I  have  loved,  and  left  alone  in  the  world — what  will 
become  of  me  ?  Where  may  I  turn  to  look  for  the  dear  lost 
ones?  Oh,  mother!  said  I  not  truly,  that  it  is  I  who  am  the 
victim  ?' 

After  a  silence  of  several  minutes;  Caroline  threw  her  arm 
round  me,  and  whispered,  '  Try,  dearest  Helen,  to  forget  awhilo 


60  HELEN  MULGRAVE;  OR, 

this  dreadful  parting.  Let  us  talk  of  something  else.  Mamma 
will,  I  am  sure,  tell  us  something  more  than  we  already  know  of 
that  demon-woman,  as  papa  calls  her,  who  haunts  his  steps,  and 
is  seen  in  the  park  by  night  as  well  as  by  day.' 

My  mother  heard  her  remark,  and  said,  '  I  cannot  satisfy  your 
curiosity,  my  dear,  as  I  know  very  little  of  the  woman.  Per- 
haps you  already  know  that  she  was  your  papa's  foster-sister, 
and  that  she  is  suspected  of  having  committed  a  robbery,  from 
a  private  closet,  of  jewels  of  immense  value.  She  would  not 
for  a  moment  be  allowed  to  remain  in  this  neighbourhood,  were 
it  not  that  her  mother,  though  yet  living,  is  evidently  approach- 
ing her  end ;  and  your  kind  father  does  not  like  to  deprive  the 
old  woman  of  her  daughter's  services  at  such  a  time.  The  sub- 
ject has  always  been  a  disagreeable  one  to  me,  and  the  recollec- 
tion of  your  brother's  conduct  in  that  quarter,  some  time  since, 
renders  it  doubly  so.' 

My  mother,  rising  as  she  said  this,  left  the  room  to  seek  my 
father.  I  accompanied  her  to  his  study  door,  where,  hearing 
Father  Ossory's  voice,  I  did  not  enter,  but  returned  to  my  sis- 
ters, who  were  still  talking  of  the  stolen  jewels.  I  was  surprised 
to  find  that  although  I  knew  nothing  of  the  affair,  Dora  was 
fully  informed  on  it. 

'  We  little  thought  last  night,'  said  she,  '  when  we  were 
exploring  the  boudoir  for  cracked  glass,  that  until  very  lately  an 
invaluable  casket  had  been  enclosed  in  a  cupboard  behind  the 
tapestry.  But  so  it  was.  It  seems  that  the  casket  contained 
jewels  of  large  value,  some  of  them  in  very  splendid  antique 
settings.  They  had  been  treasured  by  our  ancestors  for  some 
generations,  and  were  bequeathed  by  our  paternal  grandfather  to 
papa.  At  the  time  of  his  coming  into  possession  of  this  casket, 
he  had  an  ample  revenue,  and  therefore  thought  not  of  the 
pecuniary  value  of  it;  but  after  examining  its  contents,  placed 
it  in  an  iron  cupboard  which  is  within  a  closet  behind  the  tapes- 
try of  our  boudoir.  Papa  finding  himself  lately  somewhat 
embarrassed  in  his  finances,  thought  of  the  casket.  Indeed,  it 
would  seem  that  he  had  always  considered  it  as  a  sort  of  bound- 
less resource,  which  rendered  it  unnecessary  for  him  to  think  of 
such  economies  as  are  wont  to  interest  other  people.' 


JESUIT   EXECUTOKSHIP.  61 

'  Oh,  Dora,  Dora !  can  nothing  make  you  serious  ?' 

4  Yes,  my  dear, — the  empty  cupboard, — which,  when  papa 
visited  it  some  few  months  since,  he  found  utterly  guiltless  of 
the  casket.  Nor  could  he  recollect  within  a  year  when  he  had 
last  seen  it,  or  whether  he  had  ever  changed  its  place  of  deposit. 
Our  two  uncles  have  been  consulted  about  it,  but  they  can  afford 
no  aid,  either  in  information  or  suggestion.' 

Dora  proceeded  to  tell  me  that  the  stolen  jewels  were  so 
remarkable  in  beauty,  as  well  as  in  size,  that  there  was  every 
probability  they  would,  some  time  or  other,  re-appear,  and  be 
identified. 

'  It  is  my  father's  intention,'  she  said,  '  to  proceed  to  the  Con- 
tinent, by  way  of  London,  in  order  that  he  may  there  consult 
the  higher  functionaries  of  the  police  department.  Meanwhile, 
every  project  and  movement  of  his,  by  some  unaccountable 
means,  has  become  known  to  this  woman ;  and  he  is,  in  conse- 
quence, continually  receiving  letters  from  her,  full  of  mysterious 
maledictions  and  prognostics,  which  are  couched  in  language  as 
powerful  as  it  is  arrogant.  Her  talent  in  letter- writing  is  indeed, 
I  am  told,  quite  remarkable.  It  is  thought,  from  her  excessive 
daring,  that  she  must  have  some  legal  adviser,  or  perhaps  accom- 
plice ;  the  value  of  the  jewels  being  great  enough  to  purchase 
the  assistance  of  any  professional  man  unprincipled  enough  to 
engage  in  such  an  enterprise.' 

Keluctant  to  separate,  my  sisters  and  I  remained  together  until 
near  midnight,  unaware  of  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  until  we 
rose  to  go  to  our  chambers. 

-  The  maids,  when  they  made  their  appearance,  looked  like 
frightened  ghosts ;  so  faltering,  so  pale,  and  so  wild,  that  AVO 
perused  afresh  in  them  the  calamitous  disclosures  of  the  day. 

I  was  soon  in  bed,  but  not  before  hearing  from  Mary  some  of 
the  kitchen  legends  of  the  secret  passages  and  haunted  chambers 
of  the  castle. 

Sleep,  however,  is  never  far  from  the  young,  even  under  the 
saddest  feelings ;  because  in  them  the  physical  nature,  fatiguing 
itself  with  tears  and  lamentations,  soon  sinks  under  their 
exhaustion. 


62  HELEN  MULGRAVE;  OR, 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

I  KNOW  not  how  long  I  had  been  asleep,  when  I  dreamt  that  I 
saw  a  female  figure  standing  within  the  curtain,  at  the  right 
side  of  my  bed.  She  was  habited  in  a  loose  white  dressing- 
gown,  and  her  head  was  muffled  up  in  wrappers.  In  her  left 
hand  she  bore  a  lamp,  and  in  her  right,  some  glittering  instru- 
ment, which  I  thought  was  a  dagger  or  a  knife.  I  had  but  just 
fully  detected  her  outline,  when  she  cowered  over  me ;  drawing 
up  her  arm,  at  the  same  instant,  into  a  menacing  attitude,  as  if 
about  to  plunge  the  weapon  into  me.  In  a  moment,  I  felt 
myself  to  be  in  a  sitting  posture,  and  making  a  spring  at  the 
hand  which  held  the  weapon,  grasped  one  of  its  fingers,  with 
which  I  grappled  so  as  to  ward  off  the  stroke.  The  struggle 
lasted  but  a  second,  her  arm  being  suddenly  struck  down  by 
come  one  at  the  foot  of  the  bed.  I  cast  a  glance  towards  my 
deliverer — the  lamp  fell  from  the  woman's  hand — but  before  it 
was  extinguished,  I  had  discerned  the  features  of  L6once  de 
Grammont. 

I  instantly  awoke,  but  in  such  an  extremity  of  terror,  that  I 
buried  my  head  in  the  bed-clothes,  lest  I  might,  with  my  waking 
sight,  behold  the  terrific  being  from  whom  I  had  just  escaped. 
"When  I  had  in  some  degree  recovered  from  my  agitation,  I  sat 
up  in  bed,  to  assure  myself  that  the  frightful  vision  I  had  seen 
was  but  a  dream,  and  that  I  was  safe  in  my  own  room. 

The  moonlight,  as  I  had  so  often  seen  it,  was  streaming  in, 
through  the  half-open  curtain,  at  my  window.  Some  loose 
branches  of  ivy  that  crept  round  the  frame  were  nodding  in  the 
night  breeze,  and  their  shadows  dancing  on  the  floor.  While 
thus  recognising,  with  delight,  these  dear,  and  well-known 
objects,  together  with  the  old  oak  wardrobe — the  picture  over 
the  mantel-piece — and  the  crucifix  beneath  it — and  stretching 
out  my  hand  to  feel  the  thick  crimson  curtain  round  my  bed, 
that  I  might  assure  the  sense  of  touch  as  well  as  that  of  sight — I 
was  startled  by  a  slight  noise  in  a  corner  of  the  room,  near  my 


JESUIT   EXECUTOR8HIP.  63 

bed.  It  was  like  the  click  of  a  lock ;  but  as  I  knew  there  was 
no  door  there,  I  thought  it  could  not  be  that.  I  then  held  aside 
the  curtain  at  the  head  of  ray  bed,  and  took  a  deliberate  view 
of  the  spot  whence  the  noise  had  proceeded. 

There  was  no  repetition  of  it,  and  I  lay  down,  but  continued 
watching  the  pretty  bending  and  waving  of  the  ivy  at  the 
window. 

Presently,  I  heard  again,  another  movement  in  the  same 
corner  of  the  room.  I  did  not  move,  however ;  but  chancing  to 
cast  my  eyes  on  a  large  cheval-glass  which  stood  in  view,  oppo- 
site to  the  disturbed  corner,  I  saw  reflected  in  it  the  figures  on 
the  tapestry,  which  appeared  to  me  to  be  moving.  A  terrible 
idea  glanced  across  me,  that  my  brain  was  disordered,  and  that 
the  frightful  dream  from  which  I  had  so  recently  escaped,  was 
but  a  symptom  of  it.  I  lifted  my  heart  in  supplication  to  God ! 
— Still,  I  continued  gazing  fixedly  on  the  cheval-glass,  and  felt 
sure  that  I  was  under  no  delusion,  when  I  saw  the  tapestry 
lifted  up,  and  after  the  lapse  of  a  second,  a  tall  figure,  in  long 
white  garments,  emerge  from  beneath  it.  My  blood  froze  in  my 
veins — but  I  was  sufficiently  in  my  senses  to  know,  or  rather  to 
feel,  that  the  being  I  saw  reflected  in  the  glass,  whether  real  or 
spiritual,  was  actually  within  a  few  feet  of  me,  and  that  I  had 
only  to  tear  aside  my  curtain  to  be  face  to  face  with  it ! 

"While  these  thoughts  paralyzed  every  limb,  the  reflection  in 
the  glass  disappeared,  by  the  retreat  of  the  figure  into  a  deep 
shadow,  through  which  it  glided  noiselessly  along  the  side  of 
the  room,  until  it  was  lost  in  a  recess  behind  the  cheval-glass. 
But  in  a  moment,  it  was  again  in  sight — there — crossing  the 
room,  and  standing  in  the  moonlight  1  Again  it  moved,  until 
it  came  to  my  toilet-table — before  which  it  stood,  for  an  instant 
only — but  that  instant  restored  to  me  my  wandering  senses,  for 
I  saw  the  figure  take  up  a  crucifix  which  lay  on  the  table,  and 
kiss  it. 

It  was  then  no  dream — no  illusion  of  the  brain — but  some 
living,  real,  being  was  in  the  room  with  me.  Of  that  I  felt 
certain.  There  it  was  again ! — retracing  its  steps — passing 
through  the  moonlight — and  back  again  behind  the  cheval- 
glass,  and  through  the  deep  shadow,  towards  the  corner  of  the 


64  HELEN  MULORAVE;  OR, 

room  -where  it  first  appeared.  It  was  then  again  coming  near 
to  me — for  the  head  of  my  hed,  stood  against  the  tapestried  side 
of  my  room,  through  which  it  had  entered. 

Unable  any  longer  to  bear  the  horror  of  my  feelings,  I  tore 
aside  the  bed-curtain,  and  cried  out,  in  a  loud  voice,  '  Who's 
there  ?'  The  figure  paused,  then  moved  rapidly,  but  still  noise- 
lessly, onwards.  It  had  reached  the  corner,  and  raised  the 
tapestry,  when  I  sprang  out  of  bed,  and  with  one  bound  gained 
the  spot  as  the  tapestry  fell  at  my  feet ! 

My  first  impulse  was  to  lift  the  tapestry,  and  follow  that 
which  had  disappeared  behind  it ;  but  the  recollection  of  my 
dream  palsied  my  limbs.  The  glittering  weapon  hung  over  me ! 
— and  the  figure  that  held  it,  as  it  appeared  to  me  in  my  sleep, 
resembled  that  which  had  just  passed  through  my  room.  '  Yet 
I  was  certainly  now  wide  awake ?  Shall  I  ring  the  bell?  No  ; 
I  will  run  to  my  father's  room.  There  must  be,  behind  this 
tapestry,  one  of  those  secret  passages  of  which  Mary  was  dis- 
coursing last  night.' 

Quick  as  thought,  I  threw  on  a  dressing-gown  that  lay  on  a 
chair,  opened  my  door  softly,  and,  changing  the  key  to  the  out- 
side, locked  it  after  me.  I  felt  now  comparatively  safe ;  and 
stood  still  for  a  moment  to  listen,  before  I  entered  on  the  long 
dark  corridor  through  which  I  had  to  pass.  On  each  side  of  it 
were  the  doors  of  unoccupied  rooms;  and  at  its  extremity  a  tall 
Gothic  window,  from  which  the  moonlight  was  faintly  visible, 
through  its  coloured  glass.  I  began  to  move  swiftly  over  the 
floor :  there  was  no  sound,  save  of  my  almost  noiseless  step,  and 
I  longed  to  escape  the  horrible  loneliness  around  me ;  but  my 
breathing  became  so  difficult,  that  I  was  obliged  to  slacken  my 
speed. 

Having  passed  by  the  doors  of  my  sisters'  sleeping-rooms  with- 
out entering,  I  had  still  another  gallery  to  pass  through  before  I 
could  reach  my  father's  room.  But  it  must  be  done,  and  I 
endeavoured  to  hasten  on. 

Before  I  had  gone  many  steps,  I  heard  a  sound  as  of  a  door 
falling  gently  too,  in  the  gallery  in  which  I  was.  I  stood  still — 
'It  must  be  the  door  of  the 'boudoir.'  I  knew  well  the  sound 
of  it,  as  one  of  its  hinges  was  loose.  All  the  mystery  of  the 


JESUIT   EXECUTOR8HIP.  65 

casket  and  the  secret  closet  rushed  upon  my  memory ;  I  must, 
however,  pass  that  door  to  gain  my  father's  room,  which  was 
beyond  it.  '  Yet  some  one  must  be  at  this  moment  in  the  bou- 
doir!' I  leant  my  head  against  the  wainscot  for  support,  and 
tried  to  restrain  my  throbbing  pulses.  Everything  was  again  as 
silent  as  the  grave;  and  taking  fresh  courage,  I  bounded  on, 
without  daring  to  look  towards  the  boudoir,  and  reached  my 
father's  door.  It  was  not  locked ;  and  entering  softly,  I  turned 
the  key  on  the  inside,  and  sank,  nearly  fainting,  on  the  floor. 

There  was  a  light  burning,  and  my  mother  and  father,  whom 
sad  thoughts  had  kept  awake,  knew  me  instantly.  They  both 
anxiously  demanded  what  was  the  matter.  My  story  was  soon 
told,  and  seemed  to  them  so  utterly  incredible,  that  they 
endeavoured  to  persuade  me  the  whole  affair  had  been  a  dream, 
from  first  to  last.  But  when  I  mentioned  the  sound  of  the 
closing  door  of  the  boudoir,  which  could  be  no  fancy,  my  father 
seemed  struck  with  a  sudden  thought,  and  desired  me  to  pass 
into  my  mother's  dressing-room,  and  wait  there  while  he 
dressed. 

My  mother  joined  me  there,  and  provided  me  with  additional 
clothing,  for  I  was  shivering  with  cold.  She  also  hastily  dress- 
ed herself;  and  in  a  few  minutes  we  were  all  moving  rapidly 
along  the  corridors,  through  which  I  had  just  passed.  • 

Arrived  at  the  door  of  the  boudoir,  my  father  fastened  it  by 
turning  the  key  on  the  outside,  and  we  hastened  on  to  my 
room,  where  we  found  everything  as  I  had  left  it.  My  father 
examined  every  closet  and  recess,  but  finding  nothing  unusual, 
said  to  me  in  an  under-tone,  half-smiling,  '  Where  did  your 
ghost  disappear  ?' 

I  showed  him  the  spot.  '  Hold  the  taper,  love,  while  I  lift 
the  tapestry.' 

He  did  so,  and  instantly  asked,  '  Can  there  be  a  door  here  ?' 

My  mother  and  I  took  the  tapestry  from  his  hand,  and  held  it 
up,  while  he  examined  the  wainscot  behind  it,  which  he  found 
pannelled  with  oak ;  but  could  discern  no  inequality  to  indicate 
a  door.  He  took  the  light  from  me,  and,  passing  it  up  and 
down  in  close  inspection,  perceived  a  small  round  mark,  resem- 
bling a  knot  in  the  wood,  which,  on  observing  that  it  protruded, 


66  HELEN    MULORAVE  ;    OR, 

ho  instantly  pressed.  A  door  flew  open,  disclosing  a  dark 
narrow  passage,  apparently  only  wide  enough  for  one  person, 
and  the  extremity  of  which  we  could  not  discern. 

'My  dear  Dora,'  said  my  father  to  mamma,  in  a  whisper, 
'  remain  here  with  Helen :  lock  yourselves  in,  while  I  go  and 
search  this  mysterious  passage,  of  which,  I  confess,  I  have  been 
till  this  moment  utterly  ignorant.' 

'  My  dear  father,'  said  I,  '  you  must  not  go  alone ;  wo  will 
go  with  you;  we  cannot  be  separated  from  you  at  such  a 
moment.' 

'  Helen  is  right,'  said  my  mother. 

My  father  yielded,  that  no  time  might  be  lost.  Then,  holding 
the  light  high  above  his  head,  in  order  to  throw  a  gleam  on  the 
distance,  went  forward,  my  mother  and  I  following  closely,  with 
my  night-taper,  which  I  had  lighted,  from  my  own  room. 

We  went  on  without  any  interruption  or  sound,  save  our  own 
footfalls,  the  passage  winding  about,  and  taking  apparently  the 
outline  of  rooms  around  which  it  ran.  The  ceiling  hero  and 
there  was  very  low,  so  that  we  were  obliged  to  stoop  as  we 
went.  At  length  we  came  to  a  point  where  a  diverging  passage 
became  visible,  which  was  approached  by  a  descent  of  a  few 
steps.  Here  we  halted,  uncertain  whether  to  try  it,  or  continue 
in  the  one  in  which  wo  were.  After  a  momentary  debate  we 
decided  on  the  former,  and,  descending  the  steps,  had  not  pro- 
ceeded many  paces  when  we  were  arrested  by  a  small  door 
across  the  passage,  resembling  that  behind  the  tapestry  in  my 
room.  Already  initiated  in  the  secret  of  the  spring,  my  father 
soon  opened  it,  and  we  found  ourselves  in  a  large  room,  the 
dimensions  of  which  were  lost  in  the  far-off  gloom.  My  father, 
after  examining  it  in  silence,  said  the  apartment  was  entirely 
new  to  him,  as,  although  he  remembered  having  heard  of  such 
a  chamber  when  he  was"  a  child,  he  had  never  seen  it;  nor  had 
he  known  in  what  part  of  the  castle  it  was  to  be  found. 

lie  had,  indeed,  long  accustomed  himself  to  think  that  its 
existence  was  a  mere  legend,  more  fictitious  than  real.  But, 
now  that  he  saw  it,  it  recalled  to  his  memory  a  domestic  tra- 
gedy of  which  this  chamber  was  said  to  be  the  scene.  The 
room,  be  believed,  had  been  one  of  the  principal  receiving- 


JESUIT   EXECUTOR8HIP.  67 

rooms  of  the  mansion,  which,  indeed,  the  style  of  its  furniture 
and  decorations  indicated.  But  after  the  deplorable  occurrence 
which  he  had  just  mentioned,  it  had  become  so  fearful  to  our 
ancestors  who  then  occupied  the  castle,  that  they  had  it  sealed 
up  by  invisible  doors,  so  as  to  close  it  in,  and  entirely  isolate  it 
from  the  rest  of  the  building.  No  wonder,  therefore,  that  in 
the  lapse  of  two  generations,  the  remembrance  of  it  had  become 
a  far-off  vision,  that  seldom  recurred  either  to  memory  or  fancy. 
'  It  is,  however,'  said  he,  '  but  too  evident  that  while  the  prin- 
cipals of  the  house  had  lost  both  sight  and  knowledge  of  it,  it 
has  been  resorted  to  by  some  mysterious  beings  for  purposes  of 
their  own.' 

Although  we  had  not  been  five  minutes  in  this  chamber  of 
guilt,  which  the  spirits  of  the  past  might  be  supposed  to  haunt, 
we  began  to  feel  the  air  so  damp  and  chilly  as  to  thicken  our 
respiration.  We  nevertheless  made  the  circuit  of  the  room,  my 
mother  and  I  clinging  fast  to  my  father. 

We  found  the  furniture  of  a  style  which  indicated  it  to  be  at 
least  a  hundred  years  old,  the  texture  and  fashion  of  the  window 
curtains  and  chair  covers  bearing  also  the  same  date.  These 
were  all  dropping  to  pieces,  and  their  apparently  once  gay 
colours  all  but  extinct  from  dust  and  damp,  while  the  original 
crimson  and  gold  hangings  on  the  walls  hung  in  spectral  forms, 
revealing  large  masses  of  the  wainscot  behind. 

In  short,  the  whole  apartment  was  a  frightful  ruin,  and  con- 
nected with  the  idea  of  crime,  inspired  thoughts  that  made  me 
afraid  to  turn  my  head.  We  were  just  moving  towards  the  door 
by  which  we  had  entered,  and  which  my  father  had  taken  care 
to  leave  open,  lest  the  spring  might  prove  intractable  on  the 
inside,  when  a  faded  crimson  cloth,  that  seemed  to  cover  some 
article  which  lay  on  a  pier-table,  caught  my  father's  eye,  and 
going  up  to  it,  ho  lifted  the  cover ;  but  how  unutterable  were 
our  feelings  as  we  saw  there  the  large  and  exquisitely-wrought 
casket,  now  empty,  but  which  had  heretofore  contained  the 
vanished  jewels  1  Its  presence  hero  was  at  once  a  full  revelation 
of  the  use  which  had  been  made  of  the  secret  passages,  and  of 
this  chamber.  Nor  was  it  scarcely  less  complete  in  its  indication 
of  the  author  of  the  theft,  and  of  those  mysteries  and  move- 


68  HELEN  MULGRAVE;  OB, 

ments  often  heard  by  night,  which  had  been  disturbing  the 
house  and  distracting  my  father's  mind  for  some  time  past. 

"We  all  thought  at  once  of  the  '  demon-woman,'  and  leaving 
the  casket  where  we  found  it,  quitted  the  apartment  precipi- 
tately, hearing,  as  we  thought,  a  movement  in  the  passages. 
Pulling  softly  the  door  behind  us  as  we  returned  to  the  passage, 
we  crept  silently  along,  until  we  had  gained  the  main  route, 
along  which  we  proceeded,  still  as  silently,  until  we  again  reached 
a  door  that  lay  across  our  path.  Before  my  father  put  his  hand 
upon  it,  he  said,  in  a  low  voice,  '  As  I  know  not  what  this  may 
open  upon,  nor  whom  we  may  meet  here,  I  caution  you  both 
against  surprises.  Hold  up  your  taper,  Helen,  that  we  may  see 
what  is  before  us.'  I  obeyed,  and  he  approached  the  door, 
which,  to  our  surprise,  was  ajar.  On  throwing  it  open,  and  pro- 
ceeding a  few  steps,  we  found  ourselves  in  a  large  closet,  the 
shelves  of  which  were  crowded  with  an  immense  variety  of 
articles  that  appeared  to  have  been  placed  there  for  safe-keeping. 

'Ah  !'  exclaimed  my  father,  '  now  I  know  where  we  are !  It 
is  even  as  we  have  concluded.  Had  I  known  of  this  entrance 
before,  and  could  have  supposed  that  that  demon  had  at  any  time 
access  to  this  house,  all  that  has  occurred  might  have  been  pre- 
vented !' 

My  dear  father  was  greatly  agitated,  but  we  did  not  linger ; 
and  passing  through  the  closet  to  the  door  of  exit,  with  which  he 
was  familiar,  and  of  which  he  had  the  key  in  his  pocket,  he  found 
it,  like  its  opposite,  by  which  we  had  entered,  standing  slightly 
ajar.  "We  neither  of  us  spoke,  but  exchanging  glances,  my  father 
pushed  it  open,  when  we  found  ourselves  in  a  small  room  that  I 
seemed  to  recognise.  I  looked  round  it  for  a  moment  in  aston- 
ishment. It  was  the  boudoir! — our  boudoir — as  my  sisters  and 
I  were  wont  to  call  it.  On  passing  further  into  the  room,  I 
perceived  that  what  I  had  always  supposed  to  be  only  a  large 
mirror,  in  an  ebony  frame,  hanging  from  the  ceiling  to  the  floor, 
was  in  fact  the  very  door  through  which  we  had  just  entered  ! 

My  mother  smiled  at  my  looks  of  wonder,  as  of  course  she 
was  already  acquainted  with  this  secret,  and,  as  well  as  my  father, 
thought  that  the  mirror  was  the  only  door  of  entrance  to  the 
private  closet.  My  mother  seemed  quite  exhausted ;  and  throwing 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  69 

herself  into  a  chair,  expressed  a  hope  that  our  search,  at  least  for 
the  night,  was  ended. 

'  Indeed,'  said  she,  '  I  know  not  how  it  is  possible  for  us  to  get 
further ;  for  if  you  recollect,  we  turned  the  key  of  the  door  of 
this  room  on  the  outside,  when  we  passed  through  the  gallery  ?' 

While  she  spoke,  my  eye  glanced  at  the  table  in  the  centre  of 
the  room ;  and  my  attention  was  arrested  by  a  group  of  things 
on  it  not  familiar  to  me.  A  closer  survey  revealed  to  us  a  dark 
lantern,  in  which  was  a  wax  candle.  By  the  side  of  it  lay  some 
shavings,  a  bundle  of  matches,  and  a  tinder-box.  Here,  too, 
was  my  own  ebony  crucifix,  which,  by  the  moonlight,  I  had  seen 
the  figure  that  stalked  through  my  chamber  in  the  early  part  of 
the  night  take  from  my  toilet-table  and  lift  to  its  lips. 

My  father  saw  nothing  of  all  this.  He  was  stooping  to  examine 
the  floor  with  a  light  in  his  hand.  He  started — and  raised  him- 
self quickly  up.  As  he  did  so,  my  attention  was  riveted  by  ob- 
serving him  cautiously  move  to  the  fire-place,  and  deposit  the 
candle  he  held  on  the  corner  of  the  grate.  He  then  stood  still, 
silently  gazing  on  the  floor  with  clasped  hands ;  then,  covering 
his  face,  remained  several  seconds  in  silence.  As  he  looked  up, 
he  was  so  ghastly  pale  that  I  moved  quickly  towards  him,  to 
inquire  if  he  was  ill.  My  mother,  too,  who  had  observed  what 
was  passing,  came  across  the  room  to  us.  My  father  threw  his 
arms  around  us  both,  and  for  a  moment  wept  convulsively. 

1  My  dear  father,'  I  exclaimed, '  why  are  you  thus  ?  I  am  sure 
you  must  be  ill !  Let  us  get  back,  without  delay,  to  your  cham- 
ber.' 

'  Hush !  speak  not,'  said  he.  '  Life  or  death  hangs  on  a  sound ! 
Oh,  where  are  my  senses  ?' 

I  thought  him  seized  with  delirium,  and  felt  ready  to  expire 
at  the  idea;  when  he  whispered  distinctly  and  closely  into  my 
ear,  '  Helen,  I  fear  the  effect  upon  your  mother  of  what  I  must 
nevertheless  speak  to  her,  as  well  as  to  you.  If  you  have  courage 
in  your  heart  muster  it  all  1  Some  incendiary  has  plotted  to  set 
fire  to  the  castle ;  to  this  room  in  which  we  stand ;  to  the  passages 
by  which  alone  we  may  be  able  to  escape.  '  How  am  I  to  tell  this 
to  your  mother?' 

I  felt  as  he  paused  that  my  suspicion  of  his  delirium  was  con- 


70  „  HELEX    MULGRAVE  J    OR, 

firmed.  But  I  had  not  a  moment  to  ask  myself  "what  I  should  do 
for  him  or  for  ourselves,  for,  pointing  to  the  floor,  he  again  whis- 
pered,— '  See !  Helen,  and  do  not  start  at  what  I  tell  you :  I 
know  you  have  a  firm  heart, — the  floor  within  the  passages  and 
in  this  room  is  covered  thick  with  gunpowder,  and  unless  wo 
can  avert  it,  the  whole  building  will  shortly  be  in  flames !  Our 
minutes  are  numbered  !  Listen !  are  there  not  steps  ? — perhaps 
those  of  the  incendiaries  in  the  corridor  I' 

I  stepped  quickly  to  the  table  to  get  my  taper,  that  I  might 
examine  the  floors,  and  convince  myself  of  what  he  had  asserted. 
He  saw  my  purpose,  and  seizing  me  with  a  rapid  grasp,  with- 
held me;  extinguishing  at  the  same  moment  the  taper  in  my 
hand. 

4  Do  you  not  know  that  one  spark  would  fire  the  whole  train  ? 
See !  here  are  wisps  of  straw,  and  there  are  shavings,  regularly 
laid  at  intervals !  How  we  have  already  passed  through  those 
passages  with  naked  lights  in  our  hands,  and  escaped  destruction, 
is  indeed  a  miracle !' 

My  mother  had  been  clinging  closely  to  him,  and  had  heard 
enough  of  what  he  had  said  aside  to  me  to  comprehend  our  situ- 
ation. She  expressed  no  fear,  she  uttered  not  a  sound,  but  looked 
deathly  pale,  and  repeatedly  crossed  herself. 

'  This  lantern  and  these  matches,'  said  my  father,  as  he  surveyed 
the  table,  are  but  accessories  to  the  plot.  '  Softly  !  softly  !  the 
least  sound  might  accelerate  our  destruction!'  Then  again  he 
covered  his  face  with  his  hands. 

I  can  never  forget  the  feelings  of  that  moment,  standing  as 
we  did  on  the  brink  of  a  fate  so  dreadful ;  my  mother  and  I 
gazing  at  each  other  with  clasped  hands,  and  nearly  lost  to  con- 
sciousness. Yet  it  was  but  for  a  moment.  My  father  recovered 
his  presence  of  mind,  and  assuming  a  look  of  tranquillity,  spoke 
so  assuringly  and  so  calmly  as  to  recal  our  fleeting  senses. 

'  That  lantern,'  said  he,  '  is  invaluable,  it  will  enable  us  to  pass 
in  safety  over  the  destruction  beneath  our  feet!' 

It  was  but  the  work  of  an  instant  to  seize  it — light  the  candle 
within — and  close  it. 

'  Now,  my  brave  darlings !  as  we  cannot  escape  from  this  room 
by  the  door  which  opens  on  the  corridor,  and  which  my  own 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSHIP.  71 

unfortunate  hand  locked  on  the  outside,  we  must  return  back 
through  the  secret  passages.' 

Familiar  with  the  spring  of  the  mirror-door,  my  father  flung 
it  open.  We  were  already  in  the  closet.  He  turned  the  light 
to  the  secret  door  (which  we  had  shut  after  us  as  we  came  through) 
to  search  for  the  spring.  He  could  nowhere  find  it.  He  passed 
his  hand  over  every  part  of  its  surface.  Nothing  was  there  to 
indicate  it. 

'  Are  we  shut  in  by  this  door  also !'  said  my  father,  with  ges- 
tures of  the  most  poignant  distress.  'We  must  return! — and 
what  then  ?' 

My  mother,  who  had  been  revived  by  the  words  of  hope  which 
he  had  previously  uttered,  now  exclaimed,  with  imploring  looks 
— '  Oh  try !  try  once  again !  Oh  Dora  1  Caroline  1  what  will  be- 
come of  you!' 

My  father  still  stood  at  the  door,  repeating  his  fruitless  efforts, 
when  we  heard  a  slight  sound  in  the  boudoir. 

'  Hark !'  said  my  father,  in  a  hurried  whisper,  '  I  hear  a  move- 
ment at  the  door !' 

There  could  be  no  mistake,  the  key  was  cautiously  and  slowly 
revolving  in  the  lock. 

Quick  as  thought  my  father  was  in  the  boudoir.  "We  rushed 
breathlessly  after  him,  and  saw  him  seize  the  handle  of  the  door. 
It  was  forcibly  held  on  the  outside.  There  was  a  violent  struggle. 
— '  Help  !  help  !  Helen,'  cried  my  father,  in  a  tremendous  voice. 
I  grasped  with  both  hands  the  partly  opened  door.  One  moment, 
success  was  with  u» — the  next — with  our  adversaries !  and  there 
was  gasping  for  breath  on  both  sides.  Life  or  death  was  in  the 
struggle !  Another  superhuman  effort  on  our  side,  and  my  father 
and  I  fell  back,  with  the  door  in  our  hands ! 

In  a  moment  he  was  on  his  feet  again,  and  had  rushed  out  into 
the  corridor.  He  called  to  us  to  follow,  and  we  kept  up  with 
him,  in  full  pursuit  of  retreating  footsteps,  along  the  corridors, 
down  the  back  stairs  through  the  kitchen  passages,  and  out  to  a 
door  that  led  into  a  court-yard ;  which,  before  we  could  reach 
it,  was  violently  banged  to.  My  father  wrenched  it  open  just  in 
time  to  descry  two  figures  in  rapid  flight  through  an  opposite 
doorway  in  the  court-yard.  He  would  have  pursued  them  on  the 


72  HELEN    MULGRAVE  ;    OB, 

instant,  but  the  gunpowder  track  reached  to  the  very  sill  of  the 
doorway  at  which  we  stood,  and  we  knew  not  but  some  hidden 
accomplice  might  yet  be  lying  in  wait,  to  put  the  finishing  stroke 
to  the  plot,  by  firing  the  train  at  its  extremity. 

There  was  a  large  fierce  dog  in  the  yard,  furiously  barking  as 
we  made  our  appearance,  and  leaping  about  at  the  extremity  of 
his  chain,  as  if  he  wished  to  take  part  in  the  fray.  My  father 
stooped  down,  set  him  free,  and  showing  him  the  track  of  the 
flying  figures,  although  they  were  already  nearly  lost  in  the 
darkness,  cried,  '  Hie  on,  Eover !  After  them !  Seize  them,  my 
brave  fellow,  and  bring  them  back  I'  Off  went  the  noble  animal 
swift  as  the  wind,  leaping  over  fence,  paling,  and  every  other 
impediment.  We  watched  him  until  his  outline  was  no  longer 
visible,  although  we  could  still  hear  his  loud  deep  voice  booming 
on  the  morning  air. 

This  done,  we  turned  to  look  at  and  embrace  each  other, 
•which  we  did,  with  the  most  fervent  love  and  gratitude  to  Him 
who  had  preserved  us  through  such  a  night. 

My  mother,  unable  to  support  herself  any  longer,  was  nearly 
fainting,  and  my  father  observing  it,  caught  her  in  his  arms  as  if 
she  had  been  an  infant,  and  bore  her  to  her  own  chamber. 

Having  committed  my  mother  to  the  care  of  Dora,  my  father 
returned  to  me,  and  having  done  everything  to  secure  the  safety 
of  the  castle  for  at  least  a  few  hours,  I  retired  once  more  to  my 
own  chamber,  to  lie  down  again,  where  I  had  so  lately  lain  under 
the  influence  of  inexpressible  terror. 

Before  I  retired  to  rest,  Rover,  the  dog,  had  returned  unsuc- 
cessful from  his  pursuit  of  the  flying  incendiaries,  except  that  he 
had  brought  in  his  mouth  the  skirt  of  a  man's  black  coat,  which 
he  must  have  torn  off  with  his  teeth,  and  which  he  laid  down  at 
my  father's  feet  as  his  trophy. 

When  I  went  to  my  chamber,  my  father,  being  uneasy  respect- 
ing the  door  behind  the  tapestry,  wished  to  make  it  secure  for 
the  instant  by  nailing  it ;  but  wanting  the  means  to  do  so,  he 
placed  Rover  in  the  secret  passage,  and  desired  him  to  guard  the 
door ;  an  injunction  which  the  animal  seemed  well  to  understand, 
for  he  laid  himself  down  instantly  at  it.  With  this  guard,  I  had 
slept  undisturbed. 


JESUIT   EXECCTORSHIP.  73 

But  in  the  morning,  the  instant  there  "was  a  movement  in  my 
chamber,  the  animal  began  to  let  me  know  that  he  was  there, 
by  an  occasional  low  bark  and  scratching  at  the  door.  Mary, 
meanwhile,  who  had  flown  at  the  sound  of  my  bell,  was  already 
Avith  me,  congratulating  me,  with  strong  emotion,  on  the  escape 
we  had  all  had  from  the  dreadful  fate  which  had  been  prepared 
for  us.  She  wondered  much  how  I  could  return  to  sleep  in  a 
room  which  had  been  the  scene  of  such  fearful  occurrences  ;  and 
when  the  dog  scratched  again  at  the  door  behind  the  tapestry, 
she  was  startled  to  such  an  extremity,  that  to  relieve  her  fears  I 
opened  the  door,  and  brought  him  into  the  room.  The  animal 
was  delighted  at  being  released  ;  and  wagging  his  tail,  and  looking 
intelligently  up  in  my  face,  seemed  to  ask  me  if  he  had  done  his 
duty. 

Of  course,  I  gave  him  his  meed  of  praise,  upon  which  he  frisked 
about  with  such  extreme  vivacity,  that  my  poor  Mary  was  again 
very  uneasy,  and  I  desired  her  to  open  the  door  and  let  him  pass 
down  stairs.  But  he  seemed  to  know  that  his  mission  was  not 
yet  fulfilled ;  for  he  turned  from  the  open  door,  and  taking  the 
track  of  the  phantom  of  the  night,  walked  slowly  the  whole 
length  of  it,  with  his  nose  to  the  ground,  uttering  every  now 
and  then  a  half  bark,  until  he  stood  still  at  the  tapestry  door ; 
then,  seeing  that  I  did  not  attend  to  his  indications,  he  came  up 
to  me,  and  taking  me  by  the  skirts,  led  me  back  through  the 
track,  in  which  he  had  just  been,  where  I  found,  not  without 
fresh  terror,  gunpowder  strewed  the  whole  way.  Both  Mary 
and  I  were  greatly  affected,  and  well  disposed  to  caress  the 
intelligent  and  wonderful  animal,  so  sagacious  and  so  useful, 
and  so  little  less  than  human.  But  he  was  too  large  and  too 
boisterous  for  a  lady's  chamber,  and  now,  quite  as  willing  to 
go  as  we  were  to  let  him  pass  out  of  the  room,  he  darted  off  in 
an  instant. 

Mary  had  a  thousand  things  to  tell  me  when  the  dog  was  gone, 
in  Avhose  presence  she  had  seemed  under  some  restraint.  She 
informed  me  that  there  was  already  a  guard  of  soldiers  patrolling 
round  the  castle  and  grounds,  with  a  sentinel  stationed  at  every 
door ;  that  they  had  come  from  a  neighbouring  barracks ;  that 
the  old  woman,  my  father's  foster  nurse,  had  just  expired  ;  that 

4 


74  HELEN    MULUUAVK  ;    OR, 

two  constables  had  been  sent  in  search  of  the  daughter  and  her 
accomplice,  said  to  be  the  parish  priest;  that  all  the  gunpowder 
had  been  carefully  swept  up ;  a  messenger  dispatched  for  the 
bishop  ;  and,  finally,  that  breakfast  was  nearly  ready. 

My  two  sisters  now  tapped  at  my  door,  and  entered,  laughing, 
crying,  deploring,  rejoicing,  alternately,  and  embracing  me  over 
and  over  again. 

We  descended  to  the  breakfast-room  together,  and  here  a  new 
scene  of  congratulation  and  tears  awaited  me.  My  mother, 
father,  uncle,  confessor,  all  were  there,  with  hearts  so  full,  that 
a  sumptuous  breakfast  stood  long  untasted. 

Oh  joy  1  hast  thou  no  tongue  in  which  to  speak  thine  own 
ecstatic  thought,  that  thou  must  still  from  sorrow  steal  her 
tears  ? 

When  breakfast  was  over,  my  sisters  and  I  prevailed  on  my 
father  to  take  a  turn  on  the  lawn.  Although  he  could  bestow 
but  a  few  minutes  on  us,  he  answered  our  numerous  questions, 
and  informed  us  that  a  meeting  of  most  of  the  neighbouring 
magistrates  would  take  place  in  the  castle  at  two  o'clock,  to  con- 
sult on  the  measures  to  be  taken  for  getting  hold  of  the  incendia- 
ries. He  had  already,  himself,  forwarded  two  scouts  to  Dublin, 
where- the  '  demon,'  Margaret  Brian,  had  recently  resided,  and 
where  it  was  supposed  two  grown-up  daughters  of  hers  might 
still  be  living.  '  But,'  said  my  father,  '  that  woman  is  so  well 
acquainted  with  the  hide-and-seek-game  of  this  part  of  Ireland, 
that  I  fear  there  is  no  hope  of  coming  up  with  her  at  present. 
Meantime,  her  poor  old  mother  furnished  me  this  morning, 
shortly  before  she  breathed  her  last,  with  information  of  a  very 
decisive  nature,  which  leaves  not  a  single  doubt  of  her  daugh- 
ter's having  been  the  perpetrator  both  of  the  theft  of  the  jewels, 
and  of  the  plot  to  burn  the  castle.  But  she  had  an  accomplice 
in  the  parish  priest,  and  how  deplorable  soever  this  fact  may  be, 
there  seems,  from  the  testimony  of  the  old  woman,  to  bo  no 
doubt  of  it.  It  is  unfortunate  that  this  evidence  was  given  to 
myself  alone,  the  perturbation  of  the  moment,  and  the  rapid 
sinking  of  the  dying  woman,  not  allowing  time  to  call  in  any 
witness.  My  leaving  home,  too,  at  this  time,  is  most  disastrous 
to  all  our  plans.' 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  75 

'  Is  it  impossible  to  defer  your  departure  indefinitely,  my  dear 
father  ?'  I  inquired. 

'Ah,  my  child,  that  is  a  sore  question — and  from  you,  too, 
whom  I  am  to  leave  behind  I' 

At  this  instant,  the  bishop  and  Father  Ossory  appeared  on  the 
lawn,  and  my  father  immediately  joined  them. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

SEVERED  as  I  was  about  to  be  from  my  dear  family,  under 
peculiar  circumstances,  I  could  not  but  entertain  inexpressible 
anxiety  for  their  future  safety.  Our  house,  indeed,  for  the  pre- 
sent, escaped  the  destruction  so  surely  meditated  and  so  nearly 
executed  by  a  menial  who  might  have  been  supposed  without 
power  to  accomplish  such  a  purpose. 

Yet,  seeing  what  she  had  dared  to  attempt,  there  could  be  no 
security  against  the  repetition  of  the  atrocity  in  some  new  form, 
so  long  as  she  was  at  large.  For  although  her  vengeance  was 
professedly  aimed  only  at  my  father,  on  account,  as  it  was  said, 
of  his  having  repulsed,  with  great  indignation,  claims  which 
when  young  she  had  made  on  his  notice  beyond  those  of  a  mere 
foster-sister,  yet  her  resentment  included  in  it  every  member  of 
his  family. 

As  I  contemplated  these  things,  I  found  the  strongest  reasons 
for  acquiescing  in  the  departure  of  my  family  from  Ireland,  even 
as  a  measure  of  mere  self-preservation,  in  case  of  my  father's  not 
succeeding  in  placing  his  persecutor  in  the  hands  of  justice. 
Yet  resignation  was  far  from  my  heart,  and  I  still  asked  myself, 
with  tears,  why  I  might  not  accompany  them  ?  But  this  inquiry 
had  already  been  answered  by  the  terms  of  the  obligation  incur- 
red to  my  uncle. 

'And  why  should  I  lament,  though  at  so  great  a  cost  to 
myself,  that  I  am  thus  made  useful  to  so  dear  a  parent?  No  !'  I 
exclaimed,  'I  will  have  no  more  regrets.  The  sacrifice  of  self 
is  not  only  a  duty  but  a  triumph,  when  we  make  it  for  those  we 
love.' 


76  HELEN  MULGRAVE;  OR, 

I  became  more  tranquil,  and  when  the  family  circle  met  .1:1:1  in. 
and  I  learnt  that  arrangements  were  already  made  for  my 
departure  with  my  uncle  on  the  following  morning,  I  received 
the  announcement  without  losing  my  self-possession.  I  shall  be 
forgiven  for  yielding,  on  my  return  to  my  own  room,  to  a  flood 
of  tears,  which  left  me  no  more  to  shed  ;  for  in  leaving  the  home 
of  my  infancy,  under  circumstances  so  hopeless  as  those  which 
caused  my  banishment,  I  felt  that  I  should  be  for  ever  sundered 
from  it,  and  be  thus  rent  at  once  both  from  the  illusions  and  the 
realities  that  had  hitherto  charmed  my  existence. 

Father  Ossory  was  under  the  necessity  of  leaving  us  on  this 
day  before  dinner,  and  as  I  wished  to  have  an  interview  with 
him  before  my  departure,  I  requested  an  audience  of  him  in  the 
oratory,  early  in  the  day. 

When  I  had  requested  his  permission,  in  a  former  interview, 
to  be  allowed  to  use  the  Protestant  Bible,  he  had  peremptorily 
refused  me.  A  few  days  after,  he  acceded  to  my  request,  by 
sending  me  a  copy  both  of  that  and  of  the  Catholic  Bible ;  so 
that  I  had  an  opportunity  of  comparing  the  two,  my  sister  Dora 
assisting  me  in  doing  so.  The  discrepancies  in  the  two  transla- 
tions were  numerous,  and  in  some  instances  important,  inasmuch 
as  they  involved  points  of  doctrine,  as  well  as  of  practice.  We 
found  the  Catholic  Bible  full  of  copious  notes  in  the  margin,  the 
general  tenor  of  which  was  in  striking  opposition,  not  to  say 
contradiction,  to  the  obvious  meaning  of  the  sacred  text. 

All  this  I  mentioned  to  the  good  old  man  on  the  occasion  of 
our  present  interview,  and  when  I  had  done  so,  he  seemed  more 
than  usually  depressed,  and  there  was  a  mildness  and  deep 
seriousness  in  his  tone  and  manner,  that  rendered  everything  he 
said  impressive.  He  appeared  to  me  like  a  person  under  some 
mental  difficulty.  He  made  assertions,  then  explained  them,  and 
again  revised  them,  as  if  painfully  anxious  to  be  in  the  right. 

Venerable  old  man  !  had  a  gleam  of  light  shone  on  his  mind, 
exhibiting  the  possibility  of  his  not  having  yet  attained  to  a 
knowledge  of  divine  truth  ?  Or  did  he  regret  that  he  had  put 
into  my  hands  that  which  had  led  me  still  further  from  the 
Catholic  faith  ?  Our  interview  terminated  by  his  recommend- 
ing me  to  aim  at  humility,  rather  than  knowledge ;  and  giving 


JESUIT   EXECTTTOR8HIP.  77 

me  his  blessing,  I  took  leave  of  him,  under  a  feeling  of  great 
depression  and  self-distrust. 

As  I  quitted  the  good  father,  and  was  slowly  crossing  the  hall, 
I  perceived,  through  one  of  the  side  windows  of  the  entrance 
door,  a  carriage  and  four  driving  up  the  great  avenue  at  full 
speed.  So  far  as  the  liveries  were  recognisable  in  the  distance,  I 
fancied  them  to  be  those  of  Sir  Lucius  Mac  Neil,  and  instantly 
thought,  with  pain,  of  the  rejection  he  had  recently  received 
from  my  sister. 

I  did  not  quicken  my  steps,  but  rather  lingered,  with  a  feeling 
of  curiosity  to  ascertain  who  might  be  our  new  guest.  I 
thought  that,  having  ascertained  this,  I  could  in  a  moment  retire 
from  the  hall  by  one  of  the  many  side  doors,  after  the  carriage 
had  reached  the  house.  But  the  footmen,  who  must  have  seen 
its  approach,  and  perhaps  identified  the  liveries  in  the  distance, 
came  running  in  haste  to  the  great  door  of  entrance,  and  throw- 
ing it  open,  were  in  a  moment  at  their  post,  awaiting  its  arrival. 

As  the  steps  of  the  carriage  were  let  down,  a  gentleman 
sprang  from  it,  and  bounded  into  the  hall,  before  I  had  time  to 
move. 

I  recognised  him,  and  my  first  thought  was  to  run  away ;  but 
it  was  too  late  for  this  expedient,  as  he  was  already  approaching 
me.  Monsieur  de  Grammont — for  it  was  indeed  he  whom  I 
beheld — greeted  me  without  a  word  in  a  sort  of  dumb  show, 
but  with  all  his  accustomed  grace  of  manner ;  while  I,  utterly 
incapable  of  either  word  or  movement,  was  so  distracted  betwixt 
the  joy  of  seeing  him,  and  the  pain  of  rushing  recollections,  that 
I  forgot  every  ordinary  courtesy ;  but  recovering  myself  after  a 
few  moments,  proposed  to  conduct  him  to  my  father. 

He  bowed  assent,  and,  turning  to  the  servants,  who  stood  in 
a  distant  part  of  the  hall  awaiting  his  orders,  dismissed  them. 

We  were  now  alone.  My  feelings  were  irrepressible,  and  I 
burst  into  tears. 

The  marquis  was  excessively  distressed  by  my  grief,  which  he 
seemed  not  to  understand,  and  entreated  me  to  confide  to  him 
its  cause,  which  he  probably  supposed  to  be  the  state  of  our 
family  affairs.  Taking  my  hand,  he  pressed  it  to  his  lips,  and 
supplicated  earnestly  for  a  moment's  private  interview. 


78  HELEN    MULGRAVE  ;    OR, 

'Let  me  not  alarm  you,'  said  he;  '  I  will  detain  you  only  long 
enough  to  ask  a  single  question.  I  know  the  sincerity  of  your 
nature,  and  your  answer  will  decide  my  fate.' 

I  could  not,  nor  did  I  attempt  to  make  any  reply ;  and,  seeing 
how  incapable  I  was  of  doing 'so,  he  took  silence  for  consent, 
and  led  me  across  the  hall  to  a  small  cabinet,  the  door  of  which 
was  open.  Shutting  it  on  our  entrance,  he  conducted  me  to  a 
seat.  Distracted  by  conflicting  feelings,  but  thinking  I  must  say 
something,  I  expressed  an  apprehension  that,  in  detaining  him  so 
long  from  my  father,  I  was  deferring  the  welcome  which  I  was 
sure  he  would  be  impatient  to  express,  on  his  return  to  the 
castle. 

'  Pardon  me,'  said  he,  in  a  sad  tone,  and  changing  colour  as  he 
spoke,  'I  am  sorry  not  to  be  of  your  opinion;  but  if  I  have 
your  welcome,  it  will  supply  the  lack  of  every  other.' 

He  did  not  give  me  time  to  inquire  of  myself  what  he  could 
mean ;  but  gazing  on  me  for  a  moment  with  a  look  of  intense 
anxiety,  said,  '  When  I  think  of  the  hopes  I  peril,  and  the 
visions  of  happiness  which  the  question  I  am  about  to  ask  may 
destroy,  I  am  surprised  at  my  own  rashness.  Nevertheless,  sus- 
pense comprises  so  much  misery,  that  I  cannot  endure  it 
longer.' 

All  my  reserve  was  giving  way  at  sight  of  his  suffering  coun- 
tenance, and  the  frankness  of  former  times  was  returning,  when, 
without  being  aware  of  any  object,  I  said,  thoughtlessly,  '  Ah, 
Monsieur  de  Grammont,  is  it  the  custom  in  your  country,  when 
good  friends  part  for  a  long  time,  not  to  utter  a  word  of  fare- 
well, or  a  wish  to  meet  again  ?  Is  that  what  is  called  taking 
French  leave  F 

As  I  asked  this  question,  the  palor  of  his  countenance  was  in 
a  moment  exchanged  for  a  crimson  hue,  and  he  exclaimed — '  Is 
it  possible  that  I  hear  aright  ?  Do  you  indeed  deign  to  reproach 
me  for  an  agonizing  omission,  despotically  forced  on  me  ?  Was 
it  not,  then,  your  rejection  which  compelled  me  to  it  ?' 

'Rejection!'  I  repeated,  in  bewilderment,  'what  rejection?' 

'  The  rejection  of  my  hand,  my  heart,  my  all — proffered  to 
you  through  your  father,  on  the  very  day  I  left  the  castle,  when 
I  was  last  hero.  I  implored  both  Sir  William  and  Lady  Mulgrave 


JESUIT    EXECUTOR6HIP.  79 

to  allow  me  to  receive  that  rejection  from  your  own  lips ;  but 
in  vain.  They  were  so  inflexibly  opposed  to  my  wishes,  as  to 
request  me  (with  great  politeness  certainly)  to  depart  without 
even  seeing  you  again.' 

My  astonishment  and  other  feelings  overpowered  me.  L6once 
knelt  at  my  feet,  and  again  asked — '  Was  the  rejection,  then,  not 
yours  ?' 

'  No — it  was  not.  I  never,  until  this  moment,  dreamed  that  I 
had  been  honored  by  any  proposal  of  yours.' 

As  I  said  this,  all  reserve  seemed  at  once  to  be  thrown  away, 
and  his  expressions  of  delight  became  too  rapturous  to  be 
repeated.  I  will  therefore  not  attempt  to  record  them,  or  to 
describe  the  sounds  which  now  met  my  ear.  They  could  vibrate 
only  on  hearts  awaking,  like  mine,  from  a  long  dream  of  doubt 
and  desolation.  In  a  few  minutes  I  was  fully  satisfied  that  I 
was  loved  as  far  beyond  my  deserts  as  my  hopes,  and  more  in 
danger  of  being  idolized  than  again  forsaken.  The  circum- 
stances under  which  our  mutual  confidences  were  made,  left  us 
neither  time  nor  power  to  deliberate ;  and  before  we  could  think 
of  consequences,  we  had  solemnly  exchanged  vows  which  bound 
us  to  each  other  for  ever. 

It  was  now  necessary  that  it  should  be  ascertained  at  once,  to 
whom  the  power  of  disposing  of  me  belonged,  that  Leonce 
might  no  longer  be  kept  in  suspense,  and  that  we  might  both 
know  our  future  doom. 

No  one  could  decide  this  point  but  my  father — that  dear 
father  whom  I  loved  so  much,  but  who  from  some,  at  present, 
imperceptible  cause,  had,  perhaps,  devoted  both  Leonce  and 
myself  to  endless  regrets. 

I  learned  from  Leonco  that  he  had  been  made  acquainted 
with  the  projects  of  my  father  for  retrenchment,  as  well  as  with 
the  unfortunate  circumstances  which  occasioned  them,  by  my 
Aunt  Mulgrave,  and  that  it  was  his  intention,  in  the  interview 
he  was  about  to  have  with  my  father,  to  place  his  house  in 
Paris  at  his  disposal,  during  his  stay  there.  His  arrival  at  the 
castle  had  been  hastened  by  his  having  heard  on  the  road  of 
the  danger  in  which  we  had  been  so  recently  placed  by  incen- 
diaries. He  bogged  me  to  tell  him  the  particulars  of  it,  and 


80  HELEN  MULOKAVE;  OR, 

was  deeply  moved  by  a  hasty  narration  of  them.  There  was 
much  mystery,  he  thought,  in  the  cause  to  which  we  attributed 
so  fearful  an  attempt,  which  seemed  inadequate  to  the  malignity 
of  it\ 

'  As  I  take  a  survey,'  said  he,  '  of  the  complications  which 
surround  your  family,  and  of  your  own  position  when  severed 
from  them,  I  feel  sick  at  heart,  and  tremble  to  again  lose  sight 
of  you." 

I  felt  as  he  did  on  this  subject,  and  spoke  to  him  of  that 
mercy  which  is  over  all  the  works  of  God,  and  of  the  protecting 
care  which  never  slumbers. 

A  train  of  religious  thoughts  were  thus  introduced,  and  we 
reciprocated  ideas  and  feelings,  which  led  me  to  inform  him  of 
my  almost  avowed  secession  from  Romanism.  He  listened  with 
deep  attention  to  a  detail  of  the  circumstances  and  influences 
which  had  led  to  this  result,  and  implored  me  to  be  'faithful 
unto  death'  to  the  light  received. 

I  found  it  so  difficult  to  prevail  on  Leonce  to  allow  me  to 
leave  him,  that  the  lunch-hour,  struck  by  the  hall  clock,  had 
begun  to  bring  the  family  together,  before  our  '  moment's  inter- 
terview'  had  terminated.  A  deep  sadness  overspread  the  coun- 
tenance of  Leonce  as  I  received  the  parting  pressure  of  his 
hand,  and  his  million  of  acknowledgments  for  what  he  called 
my  condescension,  hi  listening  to  him  and  accepting  his  vows. 
As  I  hastily  pronounced  my  adieus,  supposing  we  should  meet 
again  in  a  few  minutes  at  the  lunch-table, — 

4  Helen,'  said  he,  '  a  presentiment  of  evil  presses  on  me ;  and  I 
much  fear,  your  uncle  being  here,  as  on  a  former  occasion,  that 
your  father  will  again  allow  himself  to  be  controlled  by  him  in 
deciding  your  fate.  Independently  of  your  uncle's  Protestant 
hatred,  which  you  are  aware  he  has  hardly  ever  thought  it 
worth  while  to  conceal,  I  am  apprehensive  that  you  are  in  some 
way  already  disposed  of  by  him,  and  he  will  perhaps  not  consult 
your  inclinations,  or  be  moved  by  any  resistance  to  his  will. 
Think  me  not  disposed  to  groundless  suspicion,  dearest  Helen. 
Had  you  lived  in  the  world  as  long  as  I  have,  and  seen  the 
depths  of  as  many  Popish  intrigues  as  I  have,  you  would  parti- 
cipate in  my  distrust.' 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  81 

'  Fear  nothing,'  said  I,  thoughtlessly ;  '  with  faith  and 
patience,  we  shall  conquer  all  difficulties  1' 

I  was  indeed  too  happy  at  that  moment  in  Leonoe's  tender- 
ness and  truth,  and  so  confident  of  his  power  to  control  events, 
that  I  could  not  fear  anything  so  long  as  he  was  with  me. 

I  left  him,  nevertheless,  in  tears ;  and  having  made  my 
escape,  flew  up  stairs  to  my  own  apartment,  without  looking 
behind  me,  or  encountering  a  single  individual. 

My  sisters  had  already  gone  down,  and  being  alone,  I  knelt  to 
thank  God  for  the  unexpected  and  inexpressible  happiness  that 
had  befallen  me.  As  I  went  to  an  open  window,  and  gazed  on  a 
beauteous  scene,  mantled  with  more  than  mid-day  splendours, 
both  earth  and  sky  seemed  to  participate  in  my  happiness. 

I  had  observed,  as  I  passed  through  the  hall,  that  Monsieur  de 
Grammont's  carriage  was  not  waiting  at  the  door,  and  supposed 
it  had  been  driven  away  in  expectation  of  his  remaining  at  the 
castle. 

Will  he  be  invited  to  remain  ?  was  a  query  which  instantly 
threw  a  dark  cloud  over  me,  as  I  thought  on  the  possibility, 
which  Leonce  had  suggested,  of  a  second  rejection. 

'  But  no,'  said  I ;  *  it  is  impossible  that  my  father  could  repeat 
such  a  mistake.  His  circumstances  and  views,  too,  which  are 
now  so  different  from  what  they  lately  were,  must  enable  him 
to  see  (independently  of  the  happiness  his  consent  would  confer 
on  Leonce  and  myself)  the  advantage  to  us  all,  of  such  an  addi- 
tion to  our  family  as  that  of  Monsieur  de  Grammont. 

'  He  casts  me  from  himself  and  my  whole  family,  only  that 
through  my  uncle's  bounty  or  caprice  I  may  be  provided  for  in 
future  life.  By  accepting  Monsieur  de  Grammont's  proposals, 
who  I  have  no  doubt  is  generous  enough  not  to  ask  a  dowry 
with  me,  I  should  be  able  to  join  the  dear  travelling  party,  of 
which  L6once  would  make  one ;  and  our  hearts  would  not  be 
torn  to  pieces  by  the  cruel  separation  now  contemplated.' 

My  experience  of  life  at  this  time  had  not  taught  me  that  the 
greater  part  of  the  misery  that  fills  the  world  is  owing  to  the 
wrong-headedness  of  those  who  control  its  affairs. 

As  I  entered  the  eating-room,  my  first  glance  fell  on  the 
bishop  and  Father  Ossory,  who  were  in  close  conversation, 

4* 


82  HELEN  MULORAVE;  OK, 

apart  from  my  mother  and  sisters.  Until  this  moment  the 
oddity  of  Monsieur  de  Grainrnont's  carriage  having  remained  at 
the  door  so  long  before  he  was  announced,  had  not  occurred  to 
me.  Now,  it  flashed  on  me  all  at  once,  and  caused  me,  as  my 
sisters  advanced  to  meet  me,  with  arch,  reproachful,  and  yet 
congratulatory  looks,  to  feel  as  though  I  had  been  guilty  of  an 
unpardonable  omission  in  not  apprising  my  father  at  first  of  his 
arrival.  Dora,  dear  Dora,  whose  thoughts  were  ever  on  her 
lips,  began  at  once  to  catechise  me  respecting  Monsieur  de 
Grammont's  whereabouts  during  the  full  hour,  as  she  said, 
although  I  thought  it  only  half  that  time,  that  he  was  missing 
after  his  arrival. 

I  related  to  her,  without  reserve,  all  the  circumstances  of  my 
unexpected  meeting  with  him,  and  his  earnest  entreaty  that  I 
would  allow  him  a  momentary  private  interview,  before  he  pre- 
sented himself  to  my  father. 

'  My  dear  Nelly,'  said  she,  '  his  sudden  disappearance,  and 
eventually  yours,  for  you  were  not  missed  at  first,  have  been  the 
cause  of  a  general  search  through  the  house  and  grounds ;  and 
my  uncle' — lowering  her  voice — '  was  so  sure  of  your  having 
been  run  away  with,  in  some  fairy  vehicle  waiting  out  of  sight 
for  you,  while  the  marquis's  was  left  at  the  door,  '  as  a  tub  for 
the  whale,'  that  even  now,  for  aught  I  know,  horsemen  may  be 
out  in  every  direction,  with  orders  to  find  and  force  you  back, 
at  every  hazard,  regardless  of  any  resistance  made  by  your 
daring  kidnapper.' 

What  could  I  reply  to  all  this,  but  express  my  regret  that 
what  was  intended  but  for  a  '  moment's  interview'  should  have 
given  rise  to  any  pursuit  on  my  account;  while  I  consoled 
myself  with  thinking  Dora's  jest  to  be  without  much  ground. 

Nevertheless,  I  replied  that  the  light  in  which  she  had  placed 
the  thing  seemed  to  make  it  necessary  that  I  should  offer  some 
apology  or  explanation  to  papa ;  but  on  hearing  that  Monsieur 
de  Grammont  and  he  were  together,  I  had  no  doubt  Leonce  had 
already  explained  everything  to  him. 

My  uncle  now  approached  the  table,  with  Father  Ossory,  and 
without  noticing  me,  except  by  a  very  grave  bend  of  the  head, 
seated  himself  at  the  table. 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  83 

My  mother  was  already  there,  and  we  circled  round  her. 
There  was  very  little  eating,  and  less  speaking ;  while  all  eyes 
seemed  fixed  on  me  with  an  inquiring  expression,  very  painful 
to  me. 

My  father  had  ordered  refreshments  for  himself  and  Monsieur 
de  Grammont  in  his  study,  so  that  all  hope  of  seeing  them  at 
the  table  was  at  an  end. 

I  became  so  frightened  arr&dst  the  silence  around  me,  that  it 
was  with  difficulty  I  withheld  myself  from  being  the  first  to 
leave  the  table.  Soon,  however,  my  uncle  rose ;  and  walking 
surlily  out  of  the  room,  Father  Ossory  followed  him,  and  we  saw 
no  more  of  them. 

Dora  and  I  made  our  retreat  to  our  own  boudoir,  and  shut- 
ting the  door,  we  sat  on  the  sofa,  while  I  leant  on  her  shoulder, 
and  told  her  all  that  had  passed  betwixt  Leonce  and  myself. 

Her  sincere  and  tender,  though  playful,  sympathy,  taught  me, 
more  than  ever,  the  value  of  sisterly  love  and  confidence,  and 
enabled  me  to  await,  with  tolerable  composure,  the  result  of  the 
conference  below. 

Dora  soon  left  me,  to  learn,  if  possible,  with  what  success  the 
suit  was  proceeding  in  my  father's  study.  She  returned  in  a 
few  minutes,"  looking  fearfully  pale,  saying  she  had  been  bold 
enough  to  knock  at  the  study-door,  which  had  been  only  half 
opened  to  her  by  my  father,  with  a  countenance  excessively 
agitated.  He  waved  her  off  with  his  hand,  without  a  word; 
but  she  had  heard  the  bishop's  voice  in  notes  of  thunder,  and 
was  glad  to  get  out  of  the  hearing  of  it. 

It  was  impossible  not  to  foresee  what  the  result  must  be, 
unless  my  father  should  assert  an  independent  opinion,  and 
prove  able  to  emancipate  himself  from  the  control  of  his  bro- 
ther— that  brother  who  owned  no  allegiance  to  any  principle  or 
power  but  that  of  the  church,  and  who  considered  the  sacrifice 
even  of  natural  affection — if  he  had  any — as  a  meritorious  offer- 
ing to  it. 

On  learning  how  matters  stood,  I  cast  away  all  my  hopes ;  and 
throwing  myself  on  the  sofa,  that  I  might  hide  my  face  in  its 
pillows,  bitterly  reproached  myself  for  the  folly  of  the  security 
which  I  had  cherished  but  an  hour  since. 


84  HELEN  MULGRAVE;  cm, 

4L6once  is  right.  Yes;  we  are  now  for  ever  separated!'  I 
exclaimed. 

Dora  did  not  answer  ine,  but  went  to  the  window,  which  com- 
manded a  view  of  the  high  road,  as  it  ran  over  a  rising  ground 
in  the  distance.  A  telescope  on  a  stand,  with  which  we  were 
accustomed  to  amuse  ourselves,  stood  before  the  window.  Dora 
seated  herself  at  this  post  of  observation,  while  I  lay  in  deep 
agony,  on  the  sofa.  Very  soon  I  heard  her  crying. 

4  Is  it,  then,  all  over  ?'  I  asked. 

*  I  fear  it  is,'  she  said.  '  I  see  his  chariot  driving  furiously 
over  the  hill,  with  the  grooms  after  it  in  full  gallop.' 

She  left  the  window,  and,  kneeling  before  the  sofa,  embraced 
me  tenderly.  Her  tears  continued  to  fall,  but  I  could  not  obtain 
a  similar  relief.  She  felt  my  pulse. 

4 1  am  not  fainting,'  said  I. 

4  No,'  said  she,  l  but  you  are  very  cold.  Shall  I  ring  for  some 
wraps  ?' 

4  No,  no ;  do  not  bring  people  to  look  at  me.'   . 

4 1  will  go  myself  for  a  warm  cloak,'  said  she ;  and  shutting 
the  door  after  her,  she  was  out  of  hearing  in  an  instant. 

The  next  minute  there  was  a  gentle  tap  at  the  door,  and  my 
father  entered.  As  he  saw  me  stretched  on  the  sofa,  he 
approached  it  softly,  saying,  '  Is  it  you,  my  love,  Helen  ?' 

Finding  my  throat  swelling  almost  to  suffocation  at  his 
approach,  I  was  unable  to  reply.  He  took  one  of  my  hands,  and 
finding  it  very  cold,  seemed  to  think  I  was  insensible;  but  I 
immediately  showed  signs  of  consciousness,  and  he  bent  over  me 
to  examine  my  countenance. 

4  Is  it  come  to  this,'  said  he,  '  that  my  own  darling  Helen 
averts  her  face  from  me  ?  Helen,  speak  to  me — reproach  me,  if 
you  will ;  but  do  not  look  like  death  1' 

4 1  am  only  cold,'  said  I.     4 1  will  sit  up.' 

4  No,  no,'  said  he ;  '  lie  still.' 

Dora  returned  with  a  down  coverlet,  and  enveloped  me  in  it. 
"We  sat  perfectly  mute  for  a  minute  or  two,  when  Dora  rose,  and 
left  the  room. 

My  father,  without  losing  another  moment,  said,  4  Do  not  let 
me  hurry  you,  my  love,  although  my  time  is  short ;  but  tell  me 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSHIP.  85 

what  I  may  speak  of.  I  have  always  considered  you  as  my  little 
heroine,  with  courage  enough  for  any  emergency.  Shall  I  try  it 
too  much  if  I  tell  you  that  De  Gramrnont  has  just  left  the 
castle,  and  with  me  a  message  for  you,  which  I  have  no  option 
but  to  deliver,  having  promised  him  that  I  would  do  so  ?' 

I  felt  my  heart  beginning  to  beat  violently,  but  commanding 
myself,  said,  '  I  know  he  is  gone,  papa ;  but  he  should  have  taken 
leave  of  me.' 

'It  was  not  his  fault,  poor  fellow,  that  he  did  not.  He  is 
really  a  very  fine  fellow,  and  my  good  opinion  of  him  ought  to 
gratify  you.' 

A  thousand  hopes  sprang  up  in  my  heart  at  these  words, 
which  brought  tears  that  relieved  me.  'Ah,  papal  it  is  but 
natural  to  you  to  do  justice ;  yet  Monsieur  de  Grammont  must 
have  been  treated  harshly,  to  cause  him  to  leave  your  house  so 
abrubtly.' 

'  Helen,  my  love,  I  see  there  is  no  occasion  for  any  further 
hesitation.  Your  good  sense  and  heroism  are  returning.  As  De 
Graininont  has  been  perfectly  frank  in  explaining  the  object  of 
the  interview  ^hich  he  tells  me  he  forced  on  you  this  morning, 
I  may  speak  on  the  subject,  I  hope,  without  paining  you  too 
much.  As  you  are  aware  of  his  pretensions,  then,  I  need  not 
mention  them ;  but  I  trust  that  in  declining  them,  at  the 
instance  of  your  uncle — to  whom  we  must  not  forget  that  you 
now  belong,  I  may  not  have  paidfully  opposed  your  own 
inclinations  ?' 

'Have  I,  then,  no  father  .*'  I  asked,  in  an  agony  of  grief. 

lie  turned  his  head  away,  and  waving  his  hand  to  deprecate 
interruption,  continued: — 'I  could  not  extort  from  De  Gram- 
mont any  remark  indicating  acquaintance  with  your  feelings.  I 
was  glad  to  find  that  you  must  have  left  him  ignorant  of  them, 
whatever  they  are.  It  is  but  a  natural  and  essential  defence  of 
woman,  that  she  wrap  herself  up  in  impenetrable  reserve  until 
the  marriage-knot  is  tied.  Yet,  I  hardly  expected  to  find  you, 
who  are  naturally  frank  and  sincere,  and  fresh  to  this  sort  of 
sentiment,  so  strictly  prudent,  and  steeled  against  the  solicita- 
tions of  so  eloquent  and  impassioned  a  pleader  as  I  am  sure  De 
Grainmout  must  be.' 


86  IIELEN  MULORAVB;  OR, 

'  Oh  1  my  dear  father,  do  not  torture  me  with  praise  which  I 
do  not  deserve.  I  am  totally  destitute  of  the  prudence  and 
mental  reserve  you  ascribe  to  me.  I  have  given  my  whole  heart 
to  Leonce,  who  had  already  given  me  his,  and  we  have 
exchanged  irrevocable  vows,  which,  if  there-  is  truth  or  honour 
in  human  nature,  can  never  be  broken  1' 

It  was  now  my  father's  turn  to  be  moved.  He  threw  himself 
back  in  his  chair  with  a  deep  sigh,  covering  his  eyes  with  his 
hand,  as  if  stunned  by  surprise,  or  overpowered  by  a  rush  of 
painful  feelings.  While  I  sat  half  up  on  the  sofa,  gazing  on  him 
with  the  most  anxious  concern  for  the  effect  of  my  precipitate 
acknowledgment,  he  suddenly  rose,  and  left  the  room.  I  hoped 
that  he  had  only  gone  away  for  a  moment,  but  he  did  not  return 
for  half  an  hour. 

Meantime,  thoughts  and  regrets,  and  hopes  and  fears,  were 
chasing  each  other  through  my  troubled  mind ;  but  always  end- 
ing in  the  dear  recollection,  that  however  sundered  for  the 
moment,  Leonce  and  I  were  one !  This  was  an  unalterable  fact, 
although  we  might  live  to  old  age  before  we  met  again.  But 
the  message  charged  to  be  delivered  by  my  father — what  could 
that  bet 

When  he  returned, 'he  looked  very  grave  and  thoughtful. 
Taking  a  seat  by  my  side,  he  said,  'Much  as  your  communication 
pained  me,  Helen,  I  am  glad  I  know  all,  as  I  am  enabled  thereby 
to  offer  you  more  useful  advice. 

'  I  must,  however,  discharge  myself  of  my  commission  before 
I  enter  on  anything  else.  Do  not  allow  it  to  agitate  yon,  or 
even  render  you  secure,  of  what  is  always  uncertain,  the  con- 
stancy of  an  absent  lover.' 

I  covered  my  face,  for  my  father  looked  anxiously  at  me,  with 
a  sadness  that  expressed  compassion,  and  thus  awakened  fears 
that  Jiope  had  lulled  to  sleep. 

'  As  I  walked  with  the  marquis  to  his  carriage,'  said  he,  '  after 
the  storm  betwixt  him  and  your  unele  had,  as  it  were,  swept 
him  out  of  the  house,  he  entreated  me,  as  he  could  not  obtain  a 
parting  word  with  you,  to  be  the  bearer  of  a  message  from  him. 
Struck  with  surprise  at  such  a  request,  although  the  mitrea 
affront,  which  he  had  just  received  in  my  lionpe,  made  it  seem 


JESUIT    EXECUTOKSHIP.  87 

necessary  that  I  should  make  some  amende — I  hesitated.  But 
recollecting  that  this  civility,  although  a  sort  of  trespass  on 
prudence,  was  the  only  expression  of  respect  now  in  my  power, 
for  the  generous  and  noble  sentiments  he  had  professed  for  my 
darling  child,  I  consented  to  his  request.  I  fear,  my  dear,  that 
your  father  is  yet  too  inexperienced  in  the  management  of  his 
children's  love  affairs  to  perform  a  part  in  them  as  coldly  as  he 
ought.  But  I  will  have  no  reserve  with  you,  and  I  am  sure  I 
may  then  entrust  yon  to  the  guidance  of  your  own  mind.  The 
message  was  this — "Say  to  your  and  my  Helen,  that  the  senti- 
ments I  have  this  day  professed  for  her  will  be  as  lasting  as  my 
life!"  Does  this  satisfy  you,  Helen?  I  feel  it  my  duty,  in 
repeating  this  enthusiastic  assurance,  which  is,  I  have  no  doubt, 
sincere  at  present,  to  apprize  you,  if  it  has  not  already  occurred 
to  you,  that  such  vows  are  often  cancelled  by  time  and  distance. 
In  one  word,  they  are  forgotten.' 

'Never,  by  a  man  of  honour,  like  De  Grammont,  papa  I' 

'  I  almost  envy  you  such  faith  in  another,  my  love.  But  you 
will  soon  acquire  a  knowledge  of  human  fallibility  in  such  mat- 
ters. Meanwhile,  we  must  prepare  ourselves  for  intervening 
trials  and  duties.  You  are  aware  that  at  this  moment  I  owe  so 
much  to  my  brother,  that  I  should  be  a  criminal  of  the  deepest 
dye,  if  I  could  sin  against  him  by  violating  the  conditions  on 
which  he  from  the  first  consented  to  save  myself  and  family. 
One  of  the  principal  of  these  was,  that  I  should  bestow  you  on 
him,  and  entrust  you  wholly  to  his  guidance.  He  saw  that  in 
your  character  which  pleased  him,  which  inspired  him  with 
parental  attachment,  and  which  would,  he  thought,  enable  him 
to  place  you  in  life  advantageously  to  yourself  and  family.' 

This  remark  grated  very  much  on  my  feelings,  but  my  father 
continued. 

'  Having  thus  given  you  to  your  uncle,  he  has  accepted  the 
gift,  engaging  to  perform  to  you  the  part  of  a  father.  There- 
fore, never  again  ask  me  whether  you  have  a  father ;  it  breaks 
my  heart.  And  above  all  things,  never  allow  yourself  to 
distrust  your  uncle.  He  will  not  fail  yon,  unless  you  very 
seriously  oppose  his  will.  As  regards  Monsieur  de  Grammont, 
you  must  give  him  up,  now  and  for  ever.  You  must  not  even 


88  HELEN  MOLORAVE;  OR, 

think  of  him.  For  be  assured  your  uncle  will  never  consent  to 
your  marrying  him,  being,  as  he  is,  a  determined  Protestant.' 

'  But,  papa,  as  I  am  also  a  Protestant,  in  opinion  and  in  feel- 
ing, would  not  that  go  far  towards  cancelling  my  uncle's  objec- 
tions to  the  marquis's  suit  ?' 

4  Oli,  my  child  I'  exclaimed  my  father, '  what  a  simple  creature 
you  are.  Have  I  not  told  you  that  it  would  be  utter  ruin,  both 
to  yourself  and  me,  for  the  bishop  to  know  that  you  were  in  any 
degree  swerving  from  the  Komish  church  ?  You  have  yet  much 
to  learn  of  that  allowable  subtlety,  essential  to  the  successful 
management  of  secular  affairs.' 

'  But  would  not  sincerity  in  all  cases  better  serve  our  interests 
than  concealment  and  insincerity  ?  Even  in  our  affairs  at  this 
moment,  would  it  not  be  better  that  my  uncle  should  be  fully 
informed  of  everything,  although  the  so  doing  might  require  an 
entire  revision  of  your  arrangements  with  him  V 

'  I  find  it  very  difficult,  Helen,  to  talk  to  you  on  this  subject. 
You,  who  know  only  the  right,  and-nothing  of  the  wrong  which 
is  perpetually  conflicting  with  it  in  the  affairs  of  life,  are  utterly 
unaware  of  the  difficulty  of  holding  the  balance  between  them. 
I  said  I  would  have  no  reserves  with  you,  and  I  will  not,  although 
I  would  willingly  have  spared  you  the  pain  of  knowing  the  full 
extent  of  your  uncle's  bitterness  towards  de  Grammont.  After 
expressing  to  him  the  most  violent  opinions  upon  religious  mat- 
ters, the  bishop  asserted,  in  his  ordinary  strong  language,  the 
absolute  authority  of  the  church,  and  her  right  to  punish  even 
with  death  in  all  cases,  if  she  so  willed  it,  apostates  from  her 
faith.  "  It  has,"  said  he,  "  only  been  an  oversight  or  an  omission 
of  duty  from  some  other  cause  on  the  part  of  the  spiritual  execu- 
tives of  the  church,  that  your  own  life,  Monsieur  de  Grammont, 
so  long  forfeited,  has  hitherto  been  spared.  Nevertheless,  to 
terminate  this  discussion,  if  you  will  now  renounce  your  errors, 
and  return  to  the  faith  of  your  forefathers,  I  will  not  oppose 
your  union  with  my  niece." 

' "  My  lord,"  said  de  Grammont,  "  in  what  you  have  j  ust  uttered, 
I  presume  that  you  have  given  me  your  ultimatum.  I  have  to 
thaiik  you  for  the  seeming  sincerity,  though  not  for  the  mock- 
ery, of  your  decision,  and  I  will  endeavour  to  reply  to  you  with 


JESUIT   EXECUTOR8HIP.  89 

equal  frankness.  You  propose  to  me  to  return  to  the  Komish 
church,  and  as  a  motive  to  it,  you  offer  me  the  greatest  boon 
that  earth  could  bestow  on  me. 

4 "  But  it  is  necessary  you  should  know,  that  never  having 
been  in  that  church,  I  cannot  be  considered  as  an  apostate  from 
it.  My  life  is  not,  therefore,  forfeited  to  it,  even  upon  its  own 
intolerant  and  sanguinary  principles. 

4 "  My  parents  had  become  Protestants  before  I  was  born ;  I 
was  baptized  in  the  Protestant  church,  and,  moreover,  ever 
since  reason  has  rendered  me  capable  of  judging  betwixt  the  two 
churches,  I  have,  both  from  conviction  and  choice,  remained  a 
Protestant.  Were  I  so  base  as  to  renounce  Protestantism,  believ- 
ing, as  I  do,  that  it  is  founded  upon  God's  Holy  Word,  which  I 
hold  to  be  the  only  test  of  right  and  wrong  in  matters  of  faith 
or  practice,  I  should  be  utterly  unworthy  of  so  sincere  and 
upright  a  being  as  your  niece,  nor  should  I  dare  to  offer  my 
hand  for  her  acceptance,  while  my  heart,  was  polluted  by  false- 
hood to  God." ' 

I  had  listened  with  breathless  interest  to  my  father's  brief 
narrative,  and  in  the  admiration  I  felt  for  Monsieur  de  Gram- 
mont's  brave  and  manly  defence  of  his  faith,  almost  forgot  that 
I  was  a  party  concerned. 

Another  moment,  and  tears  of  pride  and  joy  were  pouring 
down  my  face,  at  the  recollection  that  a  heart  so  noble  as  his, 
had  been  proffered  to  me — that  it  was,  indeed,  mine. 

'I  understand  your  feelings,  Helen,'  said  my  father,  'but  I 
must  not  foster  them  by  sympathy.  My  painful  task  is  not  yet 
over.  Your  uncle  scarcely  heard  the  last  words  of  the  marquis, 
when  he  exclaimed,  "  Now"  we  understand  each  other,  Monsieur 
de  Grammont ;  and  from  this  moment,  if  you  attempt  to  renew 
an  intercourse  of  any  kind  with  my  niece,  by  letter  or  by  any 
other  means  except  through  myself,  I  will  place  her  out  of  your 
reach  for  ever,  by  putting  her  into  a  convent  for  life,  in  a  locality 
where  no  human  power  shall  ever  reach  her.'  " 

This  climax  was  frightful,  but  my  terror  did  not  overpower 
rny  reason ;  for  I  thought  I  saw  in  it  an  extravagance  of  purpose, 
almost  destructive  of  itself. 

Yet,  my  father  assured  me  that  the  church  would  uphold  any 


00  HELEN*  MULGRAVE;  OK, 

ecclesiastic  of  my  uncle's  rank  in  the  exercise  of  such  power,  if 
it  were  deemed  advantageous  to  itself.  '  But,'  he  continued,  '  I 
do  not  in  reality  think  you  have  anything  to  fear  from  your 
uncle's  ultraism,  unless,  by  the  most  undutiful  resistance  to  hia 
will,  you  should  provoke  him  to  the  exercise  of  it.  I  have 
received  his  most  solemn  promises  of  tenderness  and  indulgence 
towards  you,  and  I  am  sure  he  will  keep  those  promises, 
because  I  believe  he  really  loves  you  with  an  affection  almost 
parental. 

'  And  now,  my  dear  Helen,  as  you  know  your  exact  position, 
you  must  brace  yourself  to  an  heroic  submission  to  what  has 
occurred.  As  it  regards  the  part  which  I  have  myself  performed 
in  this  drama,  it  is  as  useless  as  it  is  painful  for  me  to  perceive 
that,  if  I  could  have  looked  into  the  hearts  of  those  around  me, 

1  might  have  acted  differently.    But  you  can  know  nothing  of 
that  imbecility  of  purpose  and  of  effort  which  pecuniary  embar- 
rassment entails  on  its  victims,  and  which  becomes  a  deplorable 
despotism  when  it  coerces  a  man,  as  in  my  case,  to  the  abandon- 
ment or  transfer  of  the  dearest  and  most  sacred  duties.     As  it 
is,  we  must  make  the  best  of  it ;  and  if  we  look  back  to  only  a 
few  hours  since,  when  your  mother  and  we  stood  in  this  room 
on  the  very  brink  of  destruction,  with  numerous  others  in  differ- 
ent parts  of  the  house  sleping  unconsciously  in  their  beds,  and 
devoted  to  the  same  ruin,  we  shall  find  in  our  wonderful  escape 
from  it  so  much  cause  for  gratitude,  that  we  shall  not  find  it  diffi- 
cult to  resign  our  future  to  Providence.     It  is  my  happiness  to 
know  that  your  mind  is  accessible,  not  only  to  the  arguments  of 
reason,  but  to  the  feelings  of  devotion.    Let  these  resume  their 
empire,  and  you  will  not  waste  your  energies  in  unavailing 
regrets,  but  forgetting  the  past,  devote  yourself  to  the  duties  of 
the  present,  whatever  they  may  prove  1' 

My  father  took  me  in  his  arms,  and  embracing  me  fervently, 
left  the  room. 

I  did  not  remain  long  alone  after  lie  had  departed,  but  when 
I  no  longer  heard  his  voice,  I  sat  for  some  time  drowned  in  tears, 
and  lost  in  thought. 

While  he  was  with  me,  I  was  sustained  by  his  kindness,  and 
the  anxious  part  which  he  bore  in  my  distresses.  The  manner 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSHtP.  91 

in  which  he  had  taken  leave  of  me  indicated  that  he  felt  it  but 
as  the  prelude  of  the  morrow's  parting,  which,  come  what  might 
besides,  could  not  be  averted. 

I  longed  for  rest,  for  sleep  in  which  I  might  not  dream.  I 
had  a  confused  perception  of  everything  around  me.  It  was  as 
if  in  one  single  day  the  world — my  world — had  been  driven  out 
of  its  orbit,  and  the  balance  of  everything  in  life  destroyed. 

Happily,  Dora  soon  came  to  seek  me,  and  bear  me  away  with 
her  to  another  room.  The  rest  of  the  family  were  occupied 
with  their  own  peculiar  cares,  and  we  were  left  to  spend  the 
evening  together  without  interruption.  "We  did  not  attempt  to 
retrace  the  events  of  the  day.  They  were  cast  out  of  sight  as 
too  painful  for  retrospection.  Yet  Dora,  with  her  usual  playful- 
ness, reminded  me  that  although  Pandora's  box  had  been  emptied 
on  our  hearth,  we  had  not  found  it  bereft  of  its  fabled  antidote. 
'  For  surely,'  said  she,  '  if  aught  in  the  accidents  of  life  could 
form  a  pre-eminent  ground  of  hope  for  your  future  happiness, 
it  is  to  be  found  in  the  character  and  sentiments  of  Monsieur  de 
Grammont,  as  they  have  been  decidedly  exhibited  in  the  course 
of  this  stormy  day.' 

We  did  not  separate  until  a  late  hour ;  and  then  again  lingered 
over  our  last  good  night. 

When  Mary  had  performed  her  part,  and  had  left  me,  a  gentle 
tap,  and  an  opening  of  my  chamber  door,  announced  my  mother. 

'  My  dear  Helen,'  she  said,  coming  to  my  bedside,  '  I  could  not 
rest  without  giving  you  my  sympathy  and  my  blessing,  and 
telling  you  how  deeply  I  feel  the  pain  of  the  part  assigned  you. 
But  we  must  all  obey,  when  resistance  would  be  criminal,  as 
well  as  useless ;  although  we  may  be  allowed  to  hope  for  future 
good.' 

'Ah!  dear  mother,'  said  I, '  speak  not  of  my  untoward  destiny !' 
for  I  saw  that,  from  her  peculiar  religious  views,  she  could  not 
cordially  enter  into  my  feelings,  although  her  natural  tenderness 
induced  her  to  attempt  to  alleviate  them.  I  thanked  her  with 
tears,  and  lay  down  with  a  mother's  kiss  on  my  cheek.  She 
bade  me  good  night,  and  crossing  herself,  commended  me  to  the 
care  of  the  '  blessed  Virgin.' 


92  HELEN    MULGRAVE  ;    OR, 


CHAPTER  X. 

I  PASSED  the  hours  of  darkness  almost  without  sleep,  in  that 
harrowing  thought  which  disowns  tears.  Yet  the  day  dawned, 
and  the  soft  light  stole  over  hill  and  dale,  with  as  sweet  a  pro- 
gress and  as  joyous  an  effect  as  if  nothing  had  happened  to  me. 
This  was  succeeded  by  the  glories  of  a  May  morning. 

I  opened  my  window,  to  catch  the  morning  breeze,  and  con- 
template the  rich  landscape  before  me,  just  as  the  sun  made  its 
appearance  above  the"  horizon.  The  tranquillity  of  the  scene, 
and  that  indescribable  influence  which  the  early  morning  has 
upon  the  senses  and  the  heart,  operated  as  a  moral  anodyne 
upon  my  whole  being.  As  I  knelt  at  the  open  window,  gazing 
on  the  visible  heavens,  which  seemed  but  as  a  curtain  that  veil- 
ed from  human  sight  the  radiance  of  the  celestial  world,  I 
devoted  myself  in  deep  submission  to  the  will  of  God,  praying 
that  Leonce  also  might  be  able  to  do  the  same. 

When  I  descended  to  breakfast,  I  found  all  the  family  assem- 
bled. My  uncle  was  amongst  them,  but  I  found  great  difficulty 
in  greeting  him  with  even  ordinary  courtesy. 

We  had  each  of  us  been  apprised  by  what  we  had  suffered  in 
anticipation  of  it,  of  the  necessity  of  self-control,  at  the  last 
moment.  Nevertheless,  of  what  after  all  could  I  tell,  but  of 
heart-breaking  and  convulsive  weeping;  of  looks  and  tones  that 
must  live  for  ever  in  memory's  deepest  cells ;  of  death-like  dread 
of  never  meeting  more ;  of  withering  thoughts  of  past  and  fears 
for  the  future. 

I  was  almost  insensible  as  I  threw  myself  back  in  my  uncle's 
carriage,  though  still  conscious  of  the  swiftness  with  which  I 
was  borne  away. 

As  my  uncle  sat  by  my  side,  I  dared  not  give  utterance  to  my 
feelings,  and  therefore  forebore  to  look  back  through  the  long 
avenue  of  elms,  at  the  grey  towers  of  my  home,  lest  my  self- 
controul  should  forsake  me. 

My  uncle  seemed  to  feel  that  the  parting  from  my  family 


JESUIT  KXECUIORSHIP.  93 

must  have  been  very  distressing .  to  me.  He  therefore  did  not 
attempt  to  interrupt  the  current  of  my  thoughts  by  conversa- 
tion ;  but  was  attentive  and  kind  in  his  manner,  and  seemed 
well  pleased  with  my  apparent  tranquillity.  I  had,  indeed, 
sunk  into  a  torpor  of  feeling,  from  which  I  did  not  attempt  to 
rouse  myself,  until  we  reached  the  end  of  our  journey. 

I  then  found  that'  Rover,  my  father's  large  and  beautiful  black 
dog,  had  accompanied  us  all  the  way,  in  spite  of  every  attempt 
to  drive  him  back.  My  favourite  pony  was  also  there,  which 
my  father  had  sent  with  me,  and  a  groom  to  take  care  of  him  ; 
so  that  I  was  not  without  some  mementos  of  home.  My  uncle 
had  also  been  prevailed  on  by  my  father  to  allow  Mary,  though 
a  Protestant,  to  remain  in  my  service,  which  was  perhaps  as 
great  a  comfort  as  I  could  have  had,  under  the  circumstances. 

My  uncle  gave  me  a  cordial  welcome  as  he  handed  me  into  his 
house,  a  very  ancient  and  imposing  mansion,  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Cork. 

The  residence  appropriated  to  my  use  was  a  detached  build- 
ing, inferior  in  size  to  my  uncle's,  but  of  the  same  antique  and 
peculiar  character.  Both  appeared  to  have  been  built  in 
troublous  times.  Perhaps  by  some  religious  community,  for 
their  protection  against  attacks.  The  exterior  of  the  larger 
building  was  imposing  in  its  appearance,  not  only  from  its  size, 
but  from  the  massy  defences  that  were  still  in  existence  on  its 
walls,  though  fast  losing  the  distinctness  of  their  outline  by  the 
crumbling  of  their  edges. 

The  two  residences  were  rendered  easily  accessible  to  each 
other,  though  quite  distinct,  by  a  long  covered  winding  passage, 
obscurely  lighted  from  above  by  glass  of  various  colours  inserted 
In  three  singularly  constructed  domes. 

Its  walls  were  painted  in  light  and  shade,  with  so  peculiar  an 
effect,  as  to  produce  an  almost  startling  illusion,  at  first  sight,  of 
passages  diverging  from  it  in  long  perspective;  while  deep 
recesses  here  and  there,  filled  with  sepulchral  statuary,  inspired 
feelings  of  awe  that  induced  a  novice  in  its  mysteries  to  hurry 
rapidly  through  it. 

The  first  time  that  I  made  this  attempt,  I  was  suddenly 
arrested  by  perceiving  that  every  step  I  took  was  responded  to 


94  IIKLEN  MULORAVE;  OR, 

by  a  quiet,  smothered  vibration,  that  communicated  itself 
through  its  whole  length ;  thus  giving  notice,  as  I  afterwards 
learnt,  to  the  porter  at  its  invisible  extremity  that  its  precincts 
had  been  invaded.  The  exterior  of  this  passage  was  completely 
concealed  from  without  by  its  being  covered  with  the  most 
luxuriant  ivy,  that  extended  itself  over  the  roofs  and  domes,  so 
as  effectually  to  prevent  any  recognition  of  its  walls. 

I  had  imagined,  until  my  arrival,  that  I  was  to  reside  in  my 
uncle's  house,  not  being  aware  that  an  ecclesiastic  is  not  allowed 
to  have  female  inmates.  I  now  found  that  a  regular  establish- 
ment had  been  formed,  and  a  suite  of  servants  had  been  engaged 
for  my  use  alone,  at  the  head  of  whom  was  a  housekeeper  of  the 
name  of  Mrs.  O'Grady.  The  house  was  furnished  throughout  in 
a  most  expensive,  antique  style,  suitable  to  its  peculiar  architec- 
ture, although  there  was  enough  of  the  modern  incorporated 
with  it  to  afford  every  imaginable  comfort  to  a  young  and  fasti- 
dious lady,  as  my  uncle  seemed  to  consider  me,  who  required 
some  indemnity  for  the  want  of  society,  and  the  heart-breaking 
separation  from  her  family. 

My  uncle  spent  the  first  evening  of  my  arrival  in  conducting 
me  through  the  house  allotted  to  me,  and  in  pointing  out  the 
various  conveniences  that  had  been  collected  for  my  use ;  strict- 
ly charging  me,  if  anything  had  been  omitted  which  I  might 
desire,  to  order  it  of  Mrs.  O'Grady,  the  housekeeper. 

It  was  not  a  moment  in  which  I  could  feel  alive  to  any  minor 
wants,  or  appreciate  justly  the  considerate  kindness  that  had 
provided  for  the  gratification  of  every  wish.  .  How  worthless 
appeared  to  me  the  elegance  of  my  accommodations,  how  value- 
less even  my  books  and  musical  instruments,  since  I  had  no  one 
to  share  them  with  me.  My  faithful  Mary  became  everything 
to  me.  With  her  I  could  talk  of  all  we  had  left;  of  every 
favourite  tree  and  flower,  as  well  as  of  those  still  dearer  objects, 
who  like  myself  must  soon  be  exiled  from  home. 

But  this  morbid  state  of  mind  did  not  continue.  When  my 
family  had  actually  quitted  home,  and  I  had  heard  of  their  safe 
arrival  in  London,  I  became  more  tranquil,  and  recovered  a 
portion  of  my  former  content.  It  was  but  natural  that  so 
dreadful  a  wrench  should  cause  lacerations  which  it  required 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSUIP.  95 

time  to  heal ;  but  in  youth  and  health  our  sorrows  are  alle- 
viated by  the  natural  tendency  of  inexperience  to  hope.  We 
never  believe  that  we  are  '  born  to  trouble'  until  we  are  sub- 
dued by  it. 

The  impossibility  of  my  being  ever  able  to  attend  a  Protestant 
place  of  worship  while  residing  with  my  uncle,  I  soon  ascer- 
tained. 

The  nearest  church  was  five  miles  distant  from  us;  and 
although  I  had  a  chariot  and  servants  always  at  my  disposal,  I 
could  not  have  used  them  for  such  a  purpose  as  that  of  driving 
to  a  Protestant  church — bearing  as  they  did  the  arms  and 
liveries  of  my  uncle, — without  committing  an  outrage  on  Mm  in 
his  public  character. 

Such  an  impropriety  was  only  thought  of  to  be  at  once  aban- 
doned ;  and  I  endeavoured  to  satisfy  my  heart  by  an  Episcopal 
service  and  a  sermon  of  Saurin's,  in  my  own  apartment,  with 
Mary,  every  Sunday. 

I  had  been  several  weeks  at  my  uncle's  house  pursuing  this 
course,  without  attending  mass.  My  uncle  must  have  had  an 
inkling  of  it  in  some  way  or  other ;  and  I  must  have  been  short- 
sighted not  to  have  foreseen  that  my  shutting  myself  up  for  an 
hour  or  two  with  Mary  on  a  Sunday  morning,  at  church  hours, 
must  attract  the  attention  of  some  of  the  servants  of  the  house- 
hold. Mary  had,  indeed,  been  questioned  in  the  kitchen  respec- 
ting her  whereabout  at  such  a  time;  for  although  it  was  under- 
stood in  the  family  that  she  was  a  Protestant,  it  seemed  to  be 
expected,  in  the  housekeeper's  room  at  least,  that  she  should  do 
as  others  did,  by  going  to  some  place  of  worship.  She  had 
evaded  the  questioning,  for  it  was  not  very  urgent,  and  she  was, 
as  yet,  a  new-comer. 

But  on  dining  with  my  uncle  one  day,  in  his  own  apartment, 
the  servants  having  withdrawn,  he  turned  sharply  round  on  me, 
and  said — '  Helen,  my  dear,  I  never  see  you  at  mass — I  hope 
you  do  not  neglect  worship  altogether  ?' 

'  No,  my  dear  uncle,  I  have  a  service  in  my  own  apartment 
every  Sunday.' 

'  Oh,  you  prefer  private  to  public  worship,  do  you  ?  I  will 
have  an  oratory  fitted  up  for  you  in  the  house,  and  one  of  my 


96  HELEN   MULORAVE  J    OB, 

household  priests  shall  do  duty  for  you.  Your  abigail  will,  I 
suppose,  have  no  objection  to  join  you  in  it?  I  presume  you 
have  not  been  in  the  habit  of  having  a  service  by  yourself?' 

I  saw  that  my  uncle  was  assuming  an  air  of  official  dignity 
and  irony  in  his  tone  and  manner.  I  therefore  replied,  gravely 
— '  No,  my  lord ;  Mary  h'as  always  joined  me  in  a  Sunday 
morning  service.' 

'  Humph !    She  is  a  Protestant,  I  think  ?' 

'  Yes,  my  lord.' 

4  Well,  Helen,  I  give  you  your  choice,  either  to  attend  a 
morning  mass  on  Sundays  at  church,  or  to  have  a  service  in  the 
oratory  I  propose,  with  the  assistance  of  a  priest.' 

'  My  lord,  I  think  I  should  prefer  attending  mass  at  church, 
to  having  a  priest  to  officiate  in  private.' 

4  That  is  your  decision,  is  it,  my  dear  ?' 

'  Yes,  my  lord,  if  that  will  satisfy  you.' 

'  Your  abigail  must  attend  you  to  mass.  I  tell  you  that, 
Helen;  or  if  she  is  not  willing  to  do  so,  you  must  exchange  her 
for  one  that  will.' 

From  this  time  I  continued  to  attend  mass  once  a  week, 
attended  by  Mary,  as  required,  having  our  Protestant  service  in 
the  afternoon. 

Our  going  to  mass  was  distressing  to  both  of  us,  and  a  source 
of  many  tears ;  but  it  caused  us  to  keep  a  perpetual  vigil  on 
ourselves,  and  to  have  .a  higher  relish  for  the  heartfelt  sincerity 
and  comparative  simplicity  of  our  private  service.  After  some 
time,  however,  I  found  a  meagreness  in  this  exclusive  and  soli- 
tary worship,  which  made  me  long  for  the  house  of  God,  and  for 
that  heart-stirring  sympathy  which  can  only  be  felt  there,  in 
communion  with  other  and  true  worshippers.  Devotion,  like  all 
sentiments  of  the  heart,  is  contagious ;  and  it  is  in  conformity 
with  this  fact  that  religion  requires  its  votaries,  as  one  means  of 
keeping  alive  '  the  sacred  fire,'  not  to  '  forsake  the  assembling 
of  themselves  together.'  But  I  yearned  in  vain. 

At  this  period  I  had  the  happiness  of  hearing  from  the  dear 
wanderers,  and  receiving  accounts  of  their  movements  and 
enjoyments  in  London,  which  furnished  me  with  new  ideas  and 
new  subjects  of  thought.  But  their  stay  there  was  short,  and 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSHIP.  9*7 

the  post  thence  to  Cork  so  lingering  in  its  progress  that  some 
two  or  three  letters  did  not  reach  me  until  after  the  departure 
of  the  writers  for  the  Continent. 

My  sister  Dora  had  the  happiness  of  meeting  in  London  her 
rejected  lover,  Sir  Lucius  Mac  Neil,  who,  on  renewing  his  suit, 
was  accepted,  with  my  father's  approbation.  It  had  been 
arranged  for  him  to  follow  the  party  to  Paris,  where,  from  my 
uncle  De  Carryfort's  house,  Dora  would  probably  bestow  her 
hand  on  him. 

The  following  letter  was  the  last  I  received  from  my  dear 
sister  Dora,  before  her  departure  from  England,  with  which  I 
also  received  long  and  precious  letters  from  my  father  and 
mother,  and  my  sister  Caroline : 

'  Hanover  Square,  London,  June,  1816. 
'  My  own  darling  Nelly, 

'  We  have  been  in  this  wonderful  metropolis  three  weeks, 
and  this  is  but  my  third  letter  to  you,  and  must,  for  the  present, 
be  my  last.  You,  who  are  probably  occupied  with  the  pages  of 
a  book  in  the  tranquil  retreat  of  your  own  apartment,  or 
absorbed  in  meditation,  of  oppressed  by  the  quietude  around 
you,  may  find  it  difficult  to  believe  in  the  never-ceasing  occupa- 
tions of  a  novice  seeking  initiation  into  London  life. 

'But  if  I  have  not  written  to  my  dear  Nelly  so  often  as  I 
have  wished  ;  I  have  thought  of  her  every  hour  almost,  by  night 
as  well  as  by  day,  for  I  have  continually  dreamt  of  her.  Ah, 
Nelly !  how  little  did  we  think  a  year  ago  of  what  has  now 
happened  to  us.  It  sometimes  seems  to  me  as  though  we  were 
performing  parts  in  a  charade — so  utterly  crude  and  unsuitable 
to  ourselves  is  very  frequently  our  new  acting.  Our  own  dear 
home  used  to  be  our  world,  and  we  knew  little  of  any  other ; 
for  though  newspapers  occasionally  fell  under  our  eyes,  we  read 
them  idly,  though  for  the  moment,  with  great  interest.  But 
now  vague  ideas,  which  had  existed  in  my  mind  only  as  a  dream, 
have  become  a  reality;  and  I  have  beheld  life — yes,  London  life 
— in  a'full-length  picture,  with  all  its  accessories  legibly  defined 
and  rendered  intelligible. 

'My  own  little  Nelly,  so  long  my  pet,  my  fondling,  why  are 
you  not,  herp ! 


$8  HKi.nN-   Mri.r,:;  \VE;   OR, 

Cruel  was  the  uncle  that  bore  you  thus  away, 

And  cruel  is  the  fate  that  still  constrains  your  stay. 

'I  have  not,  j-ou  perceive,  forgotten  my  old  propensity  to 
parody.  There  is  a  melting  little  chant  in  the  above  style  in 
vogue  here  Just  now,  which  is  sung  with  great  effect  by  one  of 
the  songstresses  of  the  season.  I  enclose  it,  but  entreat  you  not 
tu  >hed  too  many  tears  over  it. 

'  Papa  has  been  unsuccessful  in  his  pursuit  of  the  incendiaries, 
nor  do  the  police  functionaries  here  give  him  any  hope  of  success 
for  some  time  to  come.  They  have  put  their  agents  in  Ireland 
on  the  watch  for  them,  so  that  if,  when  they  may  think  them- 
selves forgotten,  they  should  turn  up,  they  may  yet  he  brought 
to  account.  The  castle  is  left  in  the  care  of  Mrs.  O'Connell,  the 
housekeeper,  and  the  estate  in  that  of  the  agent,  who  has  orders 
to  make  the  lands  and  farms  .more  productive,  by  some  new 
modes  of  management  and  of  agriculture,  which  are  to  be 
adopted  without  delay. 

*  William,  who  has  been  desirous  of  remaining  in  England,  is 
to  accompany  us  to  the  Continent,  and  finish  his  education  at 
some  university  there,  as  papa  will  ndfc  entrust  him  with  the  unre- 
strained freedom  he  would  unavoidably  possess  if  left  here  in  his 
absence.  It  is  very  much  to  be  deplored  that  he  has  so  strong  a 
self-will,and  is  so  lawless  and  ungenial'in  his  feelings.  He  seems 
to  hate  the  English,  and  has  great  pleasure  in  being  rude  to  them. 

'  I  cannot  omit  to  mention  the  dear  name  of  Leonce,  whom  I 
am  sure  we  all  love,  spite  of  the  present  position  of  things.  My 
uncle  and  aunt  dote  on  him,  and  think  he  must  in  the  end  con- 
quer the  prejudice  of  the  bishop.  He  is  in  London,  but,  though 
very  intimate  in  Hanover  Square,  will  not,  I  fear,  be  seen' here 
while  we  remain.  Considering  all  the  circumstances  of  the 
affair,  the  senseless  and  bitter  opposition  that  has  been  made  to 
your  union  with  him  is  one  of  the  most  perverse  freaks  that 
fortune  ever  played  to  disturb  the  "  course  of  a  true  love."  I 
contemplate  with  admiration  the  beautiful  resignation  with 
which  you  have  both  submitted  to  a  sentence  at  once  unjust  and 
cruel,  rather  than  disturb  the  arrangements  made  for  retrieving 
our  dear  father's  affairs.  In  this  changing  world  something 
may,  and,  I  hope,  will,  yet  happen  to  restore  Leonce  and  you 


JESUIT   EXKCUTORSHIP.  90 

to  each  other ;  and  then,  to  know  that  your  filial  sacrifice  has 
been  tributary  to  the  happiness  of  a  beloved  parent,  will  render 
your  own  blessed  indeed. 

'  Papa  and  mamma  appear  to  be  in  their  usual  health,  though 
sadly  out  of  their  element  here.  "We  are  hurrying  to  Paris,  in 
the  hope  of  being  in  time  to  witness  the  marriage  ceremony  of 
the  Due  de  Berri,  at  the  Tuileries,  with  a  Neapolitan  princess. 

'  I  know  not  how  we  shall  arrange  a  future  correspondence 
with  you,  dearest  Nelly.  There  are  so  many  impediments  on 
the  Continent,  I  am  told,  to  a  safe  and  regular  transit  of  letters, 
except  by  our  ambassadors'  bags,  which  only  in  Paris  or  Vienna 
could  be  readily  obtained,  that  you  must  not  be  alarmed  if  you 
do  not  hear  from  us  regularly.  Forget  not  our  reverential 
regards  to  the  bishop,  nor  how  much  I  am,  my  dearest  sister, 

4  Your  ever  devoted 

'  DORA.' 


CHAPTER  XI. 

ALTHOTTGH  I  knew  beforehand  what  must  take  place,  yet  a 
new  feeling  of  isolation  ran  through  my  frame,  when  I  was  first 
informed  of  the  actual  embarkation  for  a  foreign  shore  of  those 
dear  relatives  from  whom,  for  the  first  time,  I  had  been  so  lately 
severed.  Every  relic  of  them  and  of  our  deserted  home  became 
doubly  dear  to  me.  Rover  was  caressed  with  tears,  and  the  low, 
tender  whine  with  which  he  recognised  them  seemed  comfort  to 
my  heart.  Even  my  pony,  as  I  spoke  to  him  of  the  stable  and 
manger  that  he  would  see  no  more,  responded  by  a  gentle  neigh ; 
while  the  groom,  touched  by  the  recollections  of  his  late  home, 
patted  the  pony  fondly,  and,  with  solemn  earnestness,  promised 
me  that  '  Daffy '  should  be  cared  for  like  a  child. 

Mary — my  good  and  affectionate  Mary,  who  entered  into  all 
my  home-sorrows — would  have  been  spoilt  at  this  time,  if 
indulgence  could  have  spoilt  her.  I  was  very  thankful  for  these 
remnants  of  happiness  departed  ;  although  I  sometimes  became 
cold  and  inanimate  as  marble,  if,  sitting  alone  unoccupied,  I  fell 
into  retrospection  of  what,  at  that  time,  seemed  my  long  life. 


100  TIKI.KX  MULGRAVE;  OR, 

This  proneness  to  reverie,  so  baneful  to  health,  and  so  subver- 
sive of  the  resolutions  I  had  formed  for  the  government  of 
myself,  I  generally  endeavoured,  though  not  ahvuys  with  sunv-s 
to  avoid  by  a  constant  variety  of  occupation  and  exercise.  Mary, 
like  most  country  girls,  knew  something  of  managing  a  ln>r<e  ; 
and  with  a  little  instruction,  she  soon  became  proficient  enough 
in  riding  to  accompany  me  in  this  daily  exercise,  which  I  had 
never  enjoyed  when  attended  only  by  a  groom. 

I  seldom  saw  my  uncle  oftener  than  once  a  day — sometimes 
but  once  a  week,  according  as  his  duties,  which  were  generally 
absorbing,  occupied  him.  As  my  uncle  scarcely  ever  dined 
with  me,  my  table  was  accustomed  to  be  served  for  myself 
alone ;  and  although  I  felt,  at  first,  like  a  prisoner  immured  for 
some  offence,  and  cut  off  from  sympathy  with  his  kind,  I 
became  at  length  satisfied  with  eating  alone.  At  first  my  table 
was  luxuriantly  covered,  but  I  could  not  approve  of  this  sort  of 
parade ;  and  by  expostulation  with  the  housekeeper,  the  supplies 
were  simplified,  so  as  better  to  suit  the  taste  of  youth  and  health. 

My  uncle  possessed  an  ample  income,  and  seemed  to  consider 
it  due  to  his  dignity  that  his  niece  should  be  surrounded  by 
profusion  and  show;  while  in  his  own  personal  gratifications, 
the  poorest  priest  in  his  diocese  was  not  more  abstinent  and 
self-denying.  This  trait  in  his  character  inspired  me  with  rever- 
ence, and  induced  me  to  aim  at  emulating  it. 

I  was  not  long  permitted  to  pursue  without  interruption  the 
quiet  way  of  life  I  had  proposed  to  myself,  as  no  sooner  were  the 
female  friends  of  my  uncle  aware  of  my  having  been  adopted 
by  him,  than  they  hastened  to  pay  homage  to  him  by  attentions 
to  his  niece.  He  had  no  very  near  neighbours,  but  Cork  and  its 
vicinity  supplied  me  with  a  constant  succession  of  morning 
visitors,  who,  as  the  season  for  social  entertainments  arrived, 
covered  my  table  with  invitations,  and  sought  me  with  an  ardor 
BO  flattering,  that,  much  as  I  was  desirous  of  framing  excuses 
for  declining  their  proffered  hospitalities,  I  felt  it  would  be 
ungrateful,  both  to  my  uncle  and  his  friends,  not  to  accept  them. 

The  first  entrance  of  a  novice  into  society  is  always  an  experi- 
ment upon  herself,  but  an  experiment  also  on  the  world  around 
her. 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSHIP.  101 

The  courtesies  of  the  festive  scene,  although  I  had  been, 
accustomed  to  behold  them  in  my  father's  house,  were  seen 
there  only  with  the  eye  of  a  child,  who  bore  no  part  in  them, 
and  who  contemplated  them  but  as  a  spectacle  to  amuse  her. 
Now  that  I  had  become,  a  sharer  in  them,  I  was  charmed  with 
the  importance  they  appeared  to  confer  on  me,  but  far  more 
with  the  solace  they  offered  to  my  heart,  so  long  as  I  construed 
them  to  mean  kindness.  They  diminished  in  value  as  their  con- 
ventional character  betrayed  itself,  and  I  was  compelled  to 
perceive  there  was  nothing  intrinsic  in  them.  Only  my  inexpe- 
rience could  have  led  me  into  the  error  of  believing  them  to  be 
indications  of  attachment.  Nevertheless,  my  heart  was  lacerated 
and  thrown  back  upon  itself,  when  the  illusion  was  dispelled. 

Eventually,  I  discovered  that  I  was  not  formed  for  what  is 
called  pleasure,  and  that  the  pursuit  of  it  was  but  strenuous 
idleness,  which,  while  exciting,  was  unsatisfying,  leaving  its 
votary  without  purpose,  vapid,  querulous,  and  unthankful — yes, 
and  ungrateful,  too,  for  although  I  was  praised  and  admired 
beyond  all  reason  and  moderation,  I  was  dissatisfied.  I  wanted 
something  more  than  to  be  entitled  one  of  the  '  Graces,'  or  to 
be  pronounced  a  '  Psyche,'  or  to  be  told  that  I  was  an  '  enchan- 
tress.' Even  sonnets  to  my  *  eyes  of  violet,'  my  '  locks  of 
auburn,'  or  my  '  nose  of  more  worth  than  a  kingdom,'  did  not 
interest  me.  I  know  not  how  it  was,  but  these  epithets — 
ungrateful  as  I  was —  sounded  like  mockery,  and  I  wanted  some 
one  to  whom,  on  my  return  from  an  assembly,  I  could  relate  all 
the  extravagances  that  had  been-  addressed  to  me,  and  with 
whom  I  might  have  laughed  or  wept,  as  mirth  or  melancholy 
was  in  the  ascendant.  • 

The  day  after  a  ball,  I  had  so  many  anonymous  love-letters 
that  I  began  to  be  afraid,  at  a  succeeding  party,  to  reply  to  the 
various  rattle  addressed  to  me  in  dancing,  lest  I  might  get,  una- 
wares, entangled  in  an  engagement.  But  there  was  no  retreat- 
ing until  the  end  of  the  season,  as  it  was  my  uncle's  will  that  I 
should  see  something  of  the  world,  as  he  was  pleased  to  call 
the  assemblies  of  Cork. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  season,  an  incident  occurred  in 
which  my  feelings  were  deeply  interested. 


102  HELEX    MULGRAVE  ;    OR, 

A  very  distinguished  Parisian  artist  had  been  introduced  into 
some  of  the  circles  in  which  I  visited,  who  was  so  inu<jh  lauded 
and  courted  by  everybody,  that  I  could  not  avoid  observing  him. 
He  was  never  introduced  to  me,  but  I  observed  his  eyes  so  con- 
stantly following  me,  that  his  incessant  observance  became  like 
a  persecution.  I  was  sometimes  on  the  point  of  shedding  tears 
at  it,  so  much  did  it  affect  my  imagination.  Very  soon, 
however,  he  disappeared ;  I  did  not  ask  whither  he  had  gone, 
and  I  forgot  him. 

One  day,  some  time  after,  as  I  was  driving  through  Cork  in 
one  of  my  uncle's  carriages,  I  saw  a  painting  of  a  full-length 
female  figure,  at  a  shop  window,  which  seemed,  at  the  first 
glance,  so  familiar  to  me,  that  I  looked  intently  at  it,  when,  to 
my  great  astonishment,  I  discovered  it  was  a  painting  of  myself. 
A  crowd  of  persons  was  standing  before  the  picture,  commen- 
ting on  it,  and  amongst  them  some  young  men  whom  I  knew, 
who,  on  recognising  me,  flew  to  the  carriage  window,  exclaiming 
sportively,  that  a  '  divine-looking  creature,'  resembling  me,  was 
then  receiving  the  homage  of  the  mob. 

I  was  excessively  annoyed,  and  drove  on  as  fast  as  possible, 
complaining  to  my  uncle,  on  my  arrival  at  home,  of  what  had 
occurred,  and  begging  him  to  ascertain  how  such  an  imperti- 
ence  could  have  originated,  as  that  of  making  me  a  public 
gazing-stock,  without  my  permission  or  knowledge. 

How  little  did  I  suspect  the  author  of  this  offence !  It  proved, 
however  to  be  the  French  artist,  whom  I  have  already  men- 
tioned, and  who  had  been  sent  to  Cork  by  Monsieur  de  Gram- 
mont,  expressly  to  obtain  a  likeness  of  me  for  himself — not 
certainly  to  be  exhibited  to  the  public  of  Cork. 

My  uncle's  interference  for  the  removal  of  the  picture  from  a 
public  window  became  unnecessary,  as  by  the  time  his  messenger 
had  reached  the  place  of  exhibition,  both  picture  and  painter 
were  crossing  the  Channel.  Some  of  my  friends  had  remon- 
strated with  the  artist  previous  to  his  departure,  for  the  offensive 
publicity  which  had  been  given  to  the  painting,  who  excused 
himself  by  saying  that  he  had  exhibited  it  solely  to  test  the 
resc'inblance,  and  the  experiment  had  satisfied  him,  by  the 
recognition  it  had  obtained. 


JESUIT    EXECCTOUSnil'.  103 

When  I  learnt  for  whom  this  painting  had  been  made,  what 
a  rush  of  rapturous  sensations  filled  my  heart !  What  did  not 
this  incident  imply  of  constancy  in  the  sentiments  of  Leonce! 
I  blessed  the  accident  that  had  made  me  acquainted  with  it,  not 
doubting  that  this  mute  resemblance  would  plead  for  me  iu 
absence,  and  prevent  me  from  being  forgotten ;  for  although  I 
confided  fully  in  Leouce,  as  though  I  had  exchanged  vows  of 
marriage  with  him,  yet,  holding  no  kind  of  intercourse  with 
him,  anxious  thoughts  would  sometimes  assail  me  for  the  falli- 
bility of  human  memory. 

I  had  reason  to  regret  my  too  jealous  pride  in  complaining  to 
my  uncle  of  the  exposure  of  my  picture,  as  it  furnished  him 
with  an  apparent  cause  for  attributing  '  indelicacy  and  imperti- 
nence' to  Monsieur  de  Grammont — qualities  which,  he  said,  were 
characteristic  of  Protestants  all  over  the  world,  who  never  knew 
how  to  reverence  anything,  except  their  own  '  peculiar  and 
damning  heresies.' 

I  did  not  venture  to  palliate  or  explain  what  he  condemned,  as 
it  was  too  painful  to  me  to  hear  Monsieur  de  Grammont  thus 
spoken  of,  and  I  had  no  hope  of  convincing  my  uncle  of  the 
•wrong  he  did  him. 

The  visiting  season  was  not  yet  over,  and  my  uncle,  irritated 
by  the  affair  of  the  picture,  resolved  that  I  should  not  again 
appear  in  public  in  any  dress  I  had  worn  during  the  preceding 
part  of  the  season.  Without  my  being  consulted,  a  London 
modiste  was  engaged  to  furnish  me  with  new  and  costly  dresses, 
in  which  I  was  destined  to  eclipse  myself,  as  well  as  my  com- 
peers, thus  asserting  my  own  superiority  and  my  uncle's  prodi- 
gality. It  was  not  without  anxie.ty  that  I  heard  of  this  prepara- 
tion for  a  distinction  which  I  did  not  covet ;  it  would  have  been 
more  agreeable  to  me  to  have  been  attired  simply  as  ^hitherto, 
so  as  not  to  attract  attention,  as  it  always  intimidated  me  to  find 
myself  distinguished  by  anything  strikingly  ditferent  from  those 
around  me.  In  this  case,  the  London  costumes  provided  for  me 
were  so  far  in  advance  of  the  newest  modes  "of  Cork,  as  to  be 
very  remarkable,  and  although  it  was  impossible  not  to  admire 
their  perfect  elegance,  I  felt  that  I  was  too  young  to  take  the 
lead  in  fashion,  and  too  timid  to  bear  the  censures  which  an 
assumption  was  certain,  to  bring  on  me. 


104  HE  LEX  MCI.GUAVB;  OK, 

I  ventured  to  express  somewhat  of  this  to  my  uncle,  but  it 
only  made  him  more  determined  to  distinguish  rne,  and  show 
the  world  his  opinion  of  what  was  due  to  his  neice.  I  suspected 
that  he  had  another  motive :  perhaps  I  did  him  wrong ;  but  from 
some  expressions  which  one  day  escaped  him,  I  thought  he  was 
desirous  of  making  me  conspicuous  for  vanity,  so  as  to  render 
me  offensive  to  Monsieur  de  Grammont,  who  he  presumed  would 
hear  of  my  display,  and  thus  be  rent  from  me  by  my  own  folly. 

The  incident  of  the  painting  had  incensed  him  to  a  great 
degree,  and  filled  him  with  vague  apprehensions,  so  that  he 
could  not  be  persuaded  but  that  Monsieur  de  Grammont  was 
living  disguised  in  our  neighbourhood,  and  keeping  a  perpetual 
vigil  on  me.  Under  this  impression,  he  gave  me  peremptory 
orders  never  to  stir*  out  of  the  house  without  the  attendance  of 
two  men  servants.  The  restraint  which  this  requirement 
imposed  on  me  put  an  end  to  my  pleasant  country  walks  with 
Mary,  and  even  to  my  saunterings  in  the  park  and  garden, 
whither  I  found  myself  constantly  pursued,  as  though  I  had 
been  insane.  I  soon  learnt  that  even  when  I  attended  a  party  I 
was  to  be  accompanied  by  my  uncle,  or  a  priest  of  his  house- 
hold. 

I  was  so  frightened  by  this  perpetual  parade  of  looking  after 
me,  and  so  apprehensive  that  it  might  end  in  putting  me  into  a 
convent  for  life,  that  I  wrote  to  my  aunt  in  London,  telling  her 
of  my  position  and  my  fears,  and  begging  her  to  invite  me  to 
her  house.  She  replied  that  she  would,  immediately  do  as  I 
requested  her,  although  she  feared  it  would  prove  useless,  as  she 
thought  the  bishop's  plans  for  me  were  formed,  and  would 
require  me  to  remain  where  I  was.  I  never  heard  from  her 
again  on  the  subject. 

Every  letter  addressed  to  me,  from  whatever  quarter,  was 
externally  examined^  and  inquired  about,  before  I  was  allowed 
to  open  it,  and  then  only  in  the  presence  of  my  uncle.  As  I 
had  no  correspondents  but  amongst  my  own  dear  family,  there 
were  no  discoveries  to  make ;  but  it  mortified  me  to  be  obliged 
to  expose  the  many  anonymous  and  foolish  love-letters  which 
etill  continued  to  be  addressed  to  me,  both  in  verse  and  prose. 

The  first  time  I  wore  one  of  my  London  dresses,  my  uncle 
inspected  my  appearance  before  I  went  out,  and  informed  me 


JESUIT   EXECUTOR6HIP.  105 

that  he  should  join  the  party  to  which  I  was  going  for  half-an- 
hour  before  it  broke  up,  and  himself  bring  me  home.  I  had 
hitherto  been  accustomed  to  be  attended  inside  the  carriage 
only  by  Mary,  whom  I  had  always  considered  sufficient  to  aftbrd 
me  ample  protection.  However,  there  could  be  no  possible 
objection  to  a  double  guard,  if  it  was  thought  necessary,  and  I 
submitted  with  as  good  a  grace  as  I  could  to  a  priest's  seating 
himself  by  the  side  of  Mary. 

The  incident  of  the  picture  had  become  known  to  the  whole 
circle,  on  the  evening  in  question,  by  the  time  I  reached  the 
assembly ;  so  that  I  now  appeared  in  a  new  character,  every  ( 
one  looking  upon  me  as  an  engaged  person,  which  delivered  me 
from  much  of  the  excessive  attention  that  had  hitherto  been 
paid  me  by  those  whom  I  suspected  of  being«the  authors  of  the 
anonymous  love-letters. 

"When  my  uncle  arrived,  with  his  attendant  priests,  he  created 
a  great  sensation  in  the  circle,  and  seemed  in  unusual  health 
and  spirits.  After  greeting  his  friends,  he  took  my  arm,  and 
drawing  it  within  his,  desired  me,  as  we  walked  round  the  room, 
to  point  out  to  him  those  young  men  whom  I  supposed  to  have 
written  the  silly  letters  he  had  seen. 

I  was  so  terrified  at  the  idea  of  being  called  upon  to  turn 
informer  thus  at  random  against  those  from  whom  I  had  received 
only  a  ridiculous  excess  of  homage,  that  it  almost  made  me  ill ; 
for  I  was  apprehensive  that  my  uncle,  under  some  impetuous  or 
eccentric  impulse,  might  call  them  to  account  at  a  venture,  on 
the  spot.  I  was  so  agitated  as  to  be  obliged  to  sit  down ;  and 
drawing  my  uncle  away  to  the  most  obscure  corner  I  could  find, 

^prevailed  on,him  to  take  a  seat  by  my  side.    From  this  nook  he 
again  required  me  to  point  out  those  in  the  assembly  who  had 

.  been  most  attentive  to  me. 

I  evaded  his  requirement  by  telling  him  that  it  would  be 
invidious  in  me  to  make  distinctions,  where  every  one  had 
shown  me  so  much  courtesy.  He  was  not  satisfied  with  this 
reply ;  and  I  earnestly  hoped  within  myself  never  to  attend 
another  of  these  "parties,  since  every  frivolity  was  to  be  thus 
scrutinized  and  accounted  for,  and  perhaps  impressed  with  a 

'meaning  which  had  never  been  dreamt  of. 

5* 


106  HELEN  MCLGRAVE;  OR, 

My  head  was  bewildered,  and  my  ordinary  perception  at  a 
stand,  in  trying  to  discern  my  uncle's  object  in  all  his  perplexing 
questionings  and  embarrassing  arrangements  for  my  safety.  Ob- 
servation was  ever  on  me,  and  those  around  me  were  '  taking 
notes',' 

I  had  not  heard  from  my  family  for  some  time,  but  as  we 
arrived  at  home  after  the  party  I  have  mentioned,  a  letter  from 
Paris  was  awaiting  me,  from  my  sister  Dora.  It  was  dated  four 
months  back,  for  although  destined  for  the  ambassador's  bag,  it 
had  not  come  by  that  conveyance,  and  had  probably  been  mis- 
sent,  as  it  had  been  so  long  detained  on  its  way. 

Considering  the  prevalent  practice  at  that  time  of  break- 
ing seals  in  the  Paris  post-office,  it  surprised  me,  when  I  had 
read  the  saucy  co^ents  of  my  sister's  letter,  that  it  had  ever 
reached  me  at  all ;  but  there  was  a  freedom  of  speech  in  Parisian 
society,  after  the  second  return  of  Louis  XVIII.,  respecting^  tho 
royalties  of  the  day,  which  would  not  in  ordinary  times  have 
been  tolerated. 

My  father's  party  had  been  presented  at  the  court  of  the 
Tuileries,  and  been  very  flatteringly  received,  as  all  British  sub- 
jects were  at  that  time,  by  the  royal  family  of  France.  Dora 
expressed  in  her  letter  an  apprehension  that  papa  and  mamma 
were*not  in  their  usual  health.  They  were,  she  said,  fatigued 
and  dispirited  by  perpetual  movement  and  the  discomforts  of 
change,  but  they  were  looking  forward  to  a  period  of  repose 
when  they  reached  Vienna.  My  sister  still  dated  from  the  h6tel 
of  my  uncle  the  Count  de  Carryfort,  by  whom  the  whole  family 
had  been  entertained,  during  a  long  visit,  with  true  Irish 
hospitality. 

Their  stay  in  Paris  was  to  be  continued  but  a  very  short  time 
longer,  and  my  sister's  marriage  had  been  deferred  until  the 
arrival  of  the  party  at  Vienna.  Sir  Lucius  Mac  Neil  had  pre- 
ceded them  thither,  to  apprise  my  uncle,  the  baron,  of  the  time 
when  he  might  expect  his  gtlests,  and  also  to  make  arrangements 
for  his  own  sojourn  there. 

The  priest  suspected  of  being  the  accomplice  of  Margaret 
Brian,  was  encountered  by  my  father  in  one  of  the  streets  of 
Paris;  but  as  he  endeavoured  to  seize  liiiii,  there  was  a  ix-cogni- 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  107 

tion  on  the  part  of  the  priest,  which  induced  him  to  take  to  his 
heels;  and  he  being  no  doubt  well  acquainted  with  the  hiding- 
places  of  Paris,  was  out  of  sight  in  a  moment.  M.  de  Carry  tort 
had  been  already  informed  of  the  affair  of  the  stolen  jewels, 
and  of  the  parties  suspected  of  abstracting  them;  and  IIONV*  that 
one  of  them  had  been  seen  in  the  streets,  he  advised  my  father 
to  apply  at  once  to  the  police,  and  require  aid  for  the  discovery 
of  the  priest.  Within  a  week  lie  was  found ;  but,  too  wise  to 
await  an  investigation,  he  took  refuge  in  the  protection  of  the 
church,  from  which  it  would  have  been  impossible,  without  a 
process  of  law,  to  withdraw  him.  My  father  demanded  him  of, 
his  ecclesiastical  superiors,  on  the  ground  of  a  felony  having 
been  committed  in  Ireland,  in  which  he  was  suspected  of-  being 
an  actor. 

But  they  asserted  their  right  to  withhold  him,  and  vindicated 
the  offence  alleged  in  a  way  that  indicated  some  knowledge  of 
the  circumstances  of  the  case;  and  concluded  by  telling  my 
father  that,  by  the  civil  law  of  France  there  was  no  redress 
there  for  a  felony  committed  in  another  country,  even  if  it  could 
be  proved.  It  was  therefore  thought  necessary  to  await  the 
chances  of  the  future ;  and  make  no  further  attempt,  at  pre- 
sent, for  the  discovery  of  the  criminals. 

The  terms  in  which  Dora  had  spoken  of  the  health  of  my 
father  and  mother  filled  me  with  anxiety,  nor  could  I  persuade 
myself  but  that  they  must  be  seriously  unwell.  On  the  follow- 
ing morning,  however,  a  very  cheerful  letter  arrived  from  my 
father  to  my  uncle,  informing  him  of  the  party's  having  reached 
Vienna,  and  of  the  unbounded  warmth  and  welcome  with  which 
they  had  been  received  by  my  mother's  brother,  whom  she  had 
not  before  seen  since  her  marriage. 

It  would  have  been  difficult  for  me  to  decide  whether  pain  or 
pleasure  predominated,  after  perusing  such  memorials  of  a  sepa- 
ration which  more  than  ever  realized  the  certainty  of  the 
distance  that  intervened  betwixt  us. 


108  HELEN  MULGRAVE;  OR, 


_  CHAPTER  XII. 

\w 

IT  was  about  a  fortnight  after  this  period  that  I  was  again 
engaged  to  an  evening  party  in  the  vicinity  of  Cork.  It  was 
professedly  to  bo  a  small  and  select  party ;  but  rumour  said  that 
it  would  be  given  with  unusual  splendour. 

My  uncle  was  amongst  the  invited  guests,  and  I  received  from 
him  directions  to  attire  myself  in  one  of  my  London  dresses, 
with  great  care.  I  obeyed  his  directions,  and  succeeded  in 
dressing  myself  perfectly  to  his  satisfaction. 

There  was  some  unusual  parade  on  this  occasion  in  the 
arrangements  for  our  drive,  though  it  was  not  longer  than  five 
miles.  A  new  chariot  and  four  of  my  uncle's,  fitted  with  patent 
lamps,  and  brilliantly  lighted,  was  brought  to  the  door  of  the 
hall,  preceded  by  the  old  coach,  bearing  the  attendant  priests  of 
the  household.  Mary,  who  was  always  anxious  to  see  the  wraps 
provided  for  my  return  put  carefully  into  the  carriage  with  me, 
was  standing  in  the  hall,  as  my  uncle  took  my  hand  to  lead  me 
out. 

It  was  the  ordinary  time  for  the  arrival  of  the  post,  and  a 
servant  stepped  quickly  across  the  hall  from  an  inner  door,  just 
at  that  moment,  with  the  accustomed  salver  of  letters,  which 
he  presented  to  my  uncle,  inquiring  if  he  should  carry  them  to 
his  study.  As  my  uncle  glanced  at  them,  he  observed  a  large 
packet  with  a  black  seal  on  it,  and  instantly  dropping  my  hand, 
seized  the  portentous-looking  letter,  and  hurried  with  it  through 
the  library  into  his  private  study. 

I  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  black  seal,  and  was  •. following 
him  without  knowing  that  I  did  so.  As  he  was  cu>sing  the 
study  door,  he  turned  to  me,  and  said,  mildly, — '  Be  not  alarmed, 
my  dear ;  I  will  let  you  know  if  there  is  anything  here  that 
concerns  you.' 

I  saw,  however,  that  ha  was  agitated — doubtless  he  had 
recognised  the  po^t-mark.  I  had  waited  in  fearful  silence  many 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  109 

minutes,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  Mary,  when  I  heard  stifled 
exclamations  and  bursts  of  feeling  from  the  study,  which  told 
me  but  too  truly,  that  whatever  the  contents  of  the  letter,  they 
must  be  terrible  to  my  uncle,  as  he  was  not  wont  on  ordinary 
occasions  to  suffer  from  immoderate  feeling. 

My  thoughts  were  already  in  Vienna,  but  I  tore  them  away ; 
for  it  was  not  endurable  to  suppose  there  could  be  any  connexion 
betwixt  the  black  seal  and  it.  Nevertheless,  my  apprehensions 
were  agonising,  and  I  knelt  down,  almost  prostrate  on  the  floor, 
as  if  in  that  attitude  I  could  better  bear  whatever  infliction 
might  await  me.  Mary  reminded  me  that  my  uncle  had  a  large 
circle  of  correspondents,  and  his  lordship,  she  said,  must  have 
many  friends  whom  I  knew  not.  It  was  therefore  probable 
that  his  violent  emotions  might  be  caused  by  some  occurrence 
wholly  unconnected  witti  his  own  family. 

I  was  willing  to  think  that  she  was  right,  and  that  it  was 
indeed  premature,  if  not  ridiculous,  for  me  to  agitate  myself 
with  my  own  imaginings. 

I  arose  and  moved  across  the  room,  nearer  to  the  study  door, 
and  again  heard  groans  and  sobs.  '  Mary,'  said  I,  softly,  'it  is 
worse  than  you  imagine!'  I  leant  over  the  back  of  a  chair,  in 
a  paroxysm  of  suspense  and  fear. 

The  study  door  opened — I  was  full  in  front  of  it — and  lifting 
up  my  head,  I  saw  my  uncle,  pale  as  death,  standing  in  the  door- 
way, in  an  attitude  of  distraction.  As  his  eyes  met  mine,  he 
exclaimed,  in  a  voice  of  passionate  emotion, — '  Go  !  child  of  the 
dead !  Cover  thyself  with  sackcloth,  and  put  ashes  on  thy 
beautiful  head !  for  thy  father  "  lieth  down,  and  riseth  not  again, 
until  the  heavens  be  no  more  !"  ' 

As  these  terrible  and  too  descriptive  words  fell  on  my  ear, 
they  pierced  my  soul ;  my  heart  was  rent — a  shriek  of  horror 
burst  from  me — I  felt  myself  falling,  and  for  a  brief  space  I 
escaped  frdm  consciousness. 

******* 

But  it  too  soon  returned,  and  although  in  the  first  moments 
of  recovery  I  was  insensible  'to  what  had  occurred,  and  gazed 
vacantly  on  those  around  me,  the  dreadful  reality  was  soon 
recalled,  and  with  it  came  to  my  recollection  a  former  awaking 


1 10  HELEN    MULGRAVK  ;    OR, 

from  a  similar  death,  when  a  dear  mother  and  sisters  hung  over 
me,  and  a  beloved  father's  voice  greeted  my  recovery. 

Then  came  on  the  hour  of  quick,  conscious,  overwhelming 
agony,  from  which  I  could  not  again  escape  into  insensibility, 
although  I  desired  it  as  ardently  as  one  of  old,  who  in  his  anguish 
exclaimed,  'Oh  that  thou  wouldst  hide  me  in  the  grave!' 

But  we  cannot  die  when  we  would  ;  we  must  wait  *  till  our 
change  come.'  I  refused  all  restoratives,  all  aid,  whispering  to 
Mary  that  I  would  be  alone.  It  was  not  without  effort  that  she 
succeeded  in  obtaining  this  boon  for  me,  but  after  awhile  I  was 
left  to  silence  and  to  prayer.  It  is  in  such  moments  that  we  draw 
near  to  God, — in  such  moments  that  the  suppliant  sufferer  finds 
access  to  him,  and  that  Divine  compassion  stoops  to  listen  to  his 

sighs. 

*  *  v  *  *  * 

Oh,  how  many  days,  and  weeks,  and  months,  must  the  lace- 
rated heart  continue  to  bleed,  under  such  a  bereavement  as 
mine,  ere  it  can  accustom  itself  to  the  loss  I  Amongst  the  many 
afflicting  events  that  have  since  marked  my  lot,  none  ever  in- 
flicted severer  pangs  than  those  caused  by  my  dear  father's  death. 

It  was  only  the  divine  doctrine  of  the  resurrection  that  sus- 
tained me  under  my  affliction  at  this  period.  I  had  never  before 
reflected  on  it  with  a  feeling  of  personal  interest  in  it,  or  attach- 
ed to  it  that  immense  importance  which  it  bears  in  the  system 
of  Christianity.  '  He  shall  rise  again,'  are  Divine  words,  which 
I  repeated  to  my  heart  whenever  it  began  afresh  to  sink ;  and 
although  I  well  knew,  from  the  tenor  of  the  New  Testament, 
that  the  state  of  my  dear  father  must  be  fixed,  yet  so  agonizingly 
did  I  desire  his  eternal  happiness,  that  I  could  not  but  join  in  the 
prayers  that  were  offered  for  the  repose  of  his  soul,  as  if  they 
had  been  those  of  faith.  It  was  not  in  the  spirit  of  Popery  that 
I  did  this :  my  aspirations  were  but  the  irrepressible  outpourings 
of  love  and  apprehension  for  an  earthly  parent,  to  that  Almighty 
Father  in  Heaven  whose  compassions  are  infinite. 

The  offices  of  religion  had  become  far  more  than  ever  neces- 
sary to  me ;  I  could  not  live  without  them.  I  needed  to  be 
brought  into  hourly  intercourse  with  Him  who  is  invisible,  that 
I  might  lean  upon  his  everlasting  arm,  and  be  saved  fruin  myself, 


JESUIT   KXECUTORSHIP.  Ill 

and  from  that  feeling  of  nothingness  into  which  I  was  for  ever 
sinking.  Under  this  want  of  Divine  aid,  I  often  found  myself 
worshipping  in  a  church  against  whose  many  and  signal  errors 
my  understanding  and  my  conscience  continued  to  bear  the  most 
decided  testimony.  But  in  remembering  the  character  *  and 
requirements 'of  Him  with  whom  we  have  to  do,  I  became  satis- 
fied, that  as  I  could  not,  at  that  time,  worship  him  in  any  other 
church,  I  might,  like  Naaman  the  Syrian,  when  his  duty  to  an 
earthly  power  carried  him  '  to  the  house  of  Rimmon,'  be  also 
forgiven,  and  go  in  the  assurance  of  that  forgiveness,  although  no 
prophet's  voice  had  said  to  me,  as  to  him,  '  Go  in  peace.' 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

SEVEHAL  weeks  had  passed,  during  which  I  received  letters 
from  my  sisters ;  but  they  did  not  contribute  to  my  tranquillity, 
as  they  imparted  none  of  those  particulars  preceding  and  accom- 
panying the  event  of  my  father's  death  which  it  would  have 
been  so  gratifying  to  me  to  know.  My  sisters  were,  indeed,  evi- 
dently too  distracted  by  their  grief  to  be  able  to  dilate  on  the 
subject,  or  even  to  write  tranquilly  on  it ;  and  in  this  I  saw  an 
aggravation  of  the*  calamity.  Of  my  mother  I  learnt  nothing, 
but  that  she  was  overwhelmed  by  the  stroke ;  and  Sir  Lucius 
Mac  Neil — almost  a  brother — was  not  named  or  alluded  to. 

My  uncle,  meantime,  began  to  exhibit  serious  symptoms  of 
declining  health.  He  had  never  recovered  the  shock  of  my 
father's  death,  and  had,  indeed,  become  a  very  altered  man  in 
all  respects  since  that  event,  and  his  present  appearance  and 
symptoms  inspired  me  with  the  deepest  anxiety. 

He  frequently  spent  his  evenings  with  me,  and  would  some- 
times converse  freely  respecting  my  family  and  their  future  pros- 
pects. My  brother  was  not  yet  of  age,  and  accounts  of  a  painful 
nature  respecting  his  health  and  conduct  had  more  than  once 
been  communicated  by  my  mother,  previous  to  my  father's 


112  HELEN    MULGKAVa;    OR, 

death,  so  that  we  were  not  without  considerable  uneasiness  on 
his  account. 

My  uncle's  health  did  not  improve  with  the  season  of  spring, 
and  I  frequently  visited  his  apartments,  to  pay  him  those  atten- 
tions which  my  affection  and  anxiety  for  him  dictated.  The 
practice  had  grown  into  a  habit,  when  one  day,  on  entering  his 
study,  I  found  there  a  gentleman  who  was  a  stranger  to  me.  I 
was  making  a  precipitate  retreat,  when  my  uncle  commanded 
me  to  return,  and  at  the  same  instant  introduced  Mr.  Fitzgerald 
to  me,  who  addressed  me  at  once  with  so  easy  an  air  of  assurance, 
that  I  could  not  but  feel  displeased.  He  was  young  and  hand- 
some, but  there  was  an  expression  in  his  eye  which  made  me 
shrink  from  his  glance.  I  was  not  long  in  finding  a  pretext  for 
withdrawing,  but  Mr.  Fitzgerald  remained  with  my  uncle  a  long 
time  after  I  had  left  the  room,  and  on  the  same  evening,  my 
uncle  formally  sent  to  desire  my  attendance  in  his  study.  I 
obeyed  the  summons,  and  found  him  more  indisposed  and  more 
serious  than  usual. 

After  recognising  my  entrance  by  a  slight  nod,  he  sat  looking 
into  the  fire,  as  if  in  deep  and  painful  rumination.  I  did  not 
presume  to  interrupt  him  by  making  any  inquiries,  and  he  at 
length  broke  a  silence  which  was  becoming  portentous  to  me,  by 
saying,— 

'  This  has  been  a  day  of  events,  my  dear  Helen,  and  some  of 
them  of  a  distressing  nature ;  but  we  are  not  the  arbiters  of 
destiny,  and  can  neither  prevent  nor  ward  off  that  which  has 
been  appointed  for  us.' 

'  What  has  happened,  my  dear  uncle  ?  Have  you  received 
any  intelligence  from  Germany  ?  Is  my  mother  ill — or  my  bro- 
ther worse  ?'  I  asked,  with  a  trembling  heart. 

'  I  have  received  letters,'  said  my  uncle. 

'  Are  there  none  for  me  ?' 

'  Yes,  there  are  also  letters  for  you ;  but  I  wish  to  prepare 
you  for  their  contents.  Your  brother ' 

My  uncle  paused,  unable  to  finish  his  sentence.  I  anticipated 
all  he  would  say,  but  could  not  make  any  rejoinder.  In  a  falter- 
ing tone,  he  added — 

'  Your  brother  ia  iiu  more  !' 


JESUIT    EXECUTOR8HIP.  113 

After  a  short  pause,  he  continued,  '  By  his  death,  the  estate 
goes  to  your  uncle  in  London ;  and  your  mother  and  sisters  are, 
by  this  terrible  event,  robbed  of  every  pecuniary  resource, 
except  your  mother's  small  hereditary  property.  You  see,  my 
dear  Helen,  and  feel  too,  how  distressing  these  melancholy  occur- 
rences, one  after  another,  must  be  to  your  poor  mother  and  sis- 
ters. It  is  well,  at  this  period  of  calamities,  that  they  are  with 
your  uncle  the  baron,  at  Vienna.  Providence  is  also  merciful  to 
us,  in  sending  the  good  to  balance  the  evil ;  in  proof  of  which,  I 
have  to  communicate  to  you  information  which,  though  it  can- 
not at  this  moment  interest  you  as  much  as  it  might  at  another 
time,  will  not,  I  hope,  displease  you.  I  have  this  day  received 
for  you  an  offer  of  marriage,  from  a  young  man  whom  I  greatly 
approve,  and  to  whom  I  wish  almost  as  well  as  I  do  to  you.  I 
hope,  therefore,  that  when  you  become  acquainted  with  him,  you 
will  find  him  agreeable  enough  for  a  husband.' 

My  uncle  paused  for  a  reply,  but  I  could  make  none;  my 
faculties  were  completely  stunned. 

'  You  must  excuse  my  announcing,  in  one  interview,  such  dis- 
cordant occurrences,  my  dear  child ;  I  do  not  feel  well,  and  my 
mind  is  greatly  affected  by  the  adversities  that  have  befallen 
your  family.  It  is  my  intention  to  do  all  in  my  power  to  miti- 
gate them ;  and  there  are  circumstances  in  my  health,  which 
admonish  me,  that  in  accomplishing  this  I  ought  to  lose  no 
time.' 

A  painful  silence  succeeded  this  last  speech,  interrupted  only 
by  my  sobs  and  tears,  which  I  had  no  power  to  restrain.  I 
know  not  how  my  uncle  was  occupied,  for  I  did  not  uncover  my 
eyes ;  but  after  pacing  some  time  up  and  down  the  room  with 
an  agitated  step,  he  rang  for  Mrs.  O'Grady,  at  whose  appearance 
he  kissed  me.tenderly,  and  confiding  me  to  her  care,  desired  her 
to  accompany  me  to  my  own  rooms. 

Events  appeared  to  be  conducting  the  fortunes  of  my  family 
to  a  frightful  crisis.  My  father  and  brother  both  dead — tlio 
estate  lost  to  the  family — and  my  mother  and  sisters  reduced 
thereby  to  comparative  indigence ;  my  uncle  in  declining  health, 
and  myself  called  on  to  make  an  immediate  decision  on  a  ques- 
tion which  could  not  but  be  most  repugnant  to  me,  how  much 


114  HELEN  MULGKAVE;  OR, 

soever  insisted  on  by  my  uncle.  Had  I  not  already  had  some 
experience  in  suffering,  I  should  have  sunk  under  it. 

I  dismissed  Mrs.  O'Grady,  and  in  the  solitude  of  my  own 
apartment  gained  sufficient  fortitude  to  peruse  my  letters.  They 
informed  me  but  too  soon  of  the  cause  of  my  brother's  death. 
He  had  been  killed  on  the  spot  in  a  duel,  his  antagonist  surviving 
him  only  a  few  hours.  How  much  cause  did  I  find  in  such  a 
death  for  that  grief  which  admits  of  no  consolation !  I  dared 
not  reflect  on  it,  and  I  almost  equally  feared  to  turn  to  the  pecu- 
niary distresses  of  my  mother. 

My  uncle,  like  myself,  passed  a  sleepless  night ;  and  in  the 
morning  appeared  to  be  more  indisposed  than  he  had  been  the 
day  before. 

He  renewed  the  subject  of  the  marriage  proposal  with  an 
earnestness  of  manner  that  made  me  afraid  to  express  the  deter- 
mination I  had  formed  to  decline  it,  although  my  repugnance 
became,  if  possible,  stronger,  when  I  was  informed  that  my 
suitor  was  Mr.  Fitzgerald. 

I  now  remembered  to  have  seen  him  at  the  winter  balls, 
although  he  had  never  been  introduced  to  me ;  and  in  the  inter- 
val that  had  elapsed,  he  had  entirely  faded  from  my  memory. 

It  was  impossible  for  any  suit  to  have  been  advocated  with 
more  z^al,  by  a  third  person,  than  was  Mr.  Fitzgerald's  by  my 
uncle ;  but  the  state  both  of  my  affections  and  my  family  affairs 
rendered  it  an  odious  subject  to  my  thoughts,  and  nothing  but 
the  too  visible  indisposition  of  my  uncle  could  have  induced  me 
to  remain  in  his  society  while  he  made  it  the  theme  of  his  con- 
versation. 

I  endeavoured  to  convince  him  that  not  only  was  I  disinclined 
to  think  at  all  of  marriage,  but  that  Mr.  Fitzgerald  was  by  no 
means  the  man  I  could  ever  accept  as  a  husband.  . 

This  assertion,  made  perhaps  in  too  decided  terms,  irritated 
my  uncle ;  and  he  reproached  me  with  my  partiality  for  Protest- 
ants and  foreigners  as  the  cause  of  my  dislike.  Then,  regarding 
me  with  a  fixed  seriousness  of  look,  while  great  depression  was 
marked  on  his  face,  he  addressed  me  in  a  solemn  tone,  as  nearly 
as  I  can  recollect,  in  the  following  words : — '  My  dear  Helen, 
when  your  father  gave  you  to  me,  I  engaged  to  be  to  you  what 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSHIP.  115 

lie  had  it  not  in  his  power  to  be — the  provider  for  your  future 
life.  The  misfortunes  that  have  happened  to  your  mother  and 
sisters  in  his  death,  and  subsequently  in  the  loss  of  the  estate  by 
the  death  of  your  brother,  have  rendered  the  fulfilment  of  my 
engagement  more  difficult  than  I  had  supposed  it  would  be. 
Had  I  only  you  to  provide  for,  I  could  leave  you  a  fortune  suffi- 
cient to  secure  you  an  ample  independence,  and  consequently 
your  freedom  on  the  subject  of  marriage.  But  now,  situated  as 
your  mother  and  sisters  are,  it  is  incumbent  on  me  to  divide  that 
property  which  was  intended  to  have  been  wholly  yours, 
amongst  you  all.  I  had  begun  to  feel  a  distressing  anxiety  on 
account  of  the  necessity  of  thus  reducing  your  station  in  life, 
when  Mr.  Fitzgerald  made  a  proposal  of  marriage  for  you.  I 
hailed  this  occurrence  as  an  intervention  of  Providence  on  your 
behalf,  as  well  as  mine ;  for  Mr.  Fitzgerald  is  in  possession  of  an 
income  of  ten  thousand  per  annum,  and  will  make  a  competent 
settlement  on  you ;  which,  in  addition  to  what  I  shall  still  be 
able  to  do  for  you,  will  place  you  in  very  easy  circumstances, 
and  enable  you  to  retain  that  consideration  in  society  to  which 
you  are  entitled.  Fitzgerald  is  well-born,  well  connected,  well 
educated,  and,  I  believe,  "without  vices ;  and  to  crown  all,  he 
seems  to  have  been  deeply  impressed  in  your  favour,  my  dear 
Helen,'  said  my  uncle,  smiling,  '  since  he  has  cherished  in  gilence 
an  attachment  formed  two  or  three  months  since.' 

'  But,  my  dear  uncle,  I  do  not  like  Mr.  Fitzgerald ;  and  I  assure 
you  I  would  rather  live  single  my  whole  life  than  marry  him.  I 
have  no  desire  to  marry  at  present :  it  could  not  increase  my 
happiness,  and  it  would,  besides,  take  me  from  you.  Inform  Mr. 
Fitzgerald  of  my  sentiments,  and  assure  him  that  I  am  too  inca- 
pable of  attachment  to  be  worthy  of  "him.  He  has  my  best 
wishes  for  his  happiness.' 

My  uncle  shook  his  head  angrily. 

'  How  like  a  simpleton  you  talk,'  said  he.  '  What  are  you  to 
do  when  your  uncle,  as  well  as  your  father  and  brother,  is  no 
more  ?  Look  at  me,  child  ;  do  you  not  see  disease  in  my  coun- 
tenance ?  Do  you  not  know  that  death  is  in  its  train  ?  Have 
you  reflected  on  what  it  would  be  for  you  to  be  left  in  this  jost- 
ling world  without  a  male  protector?  To  whom  will  you  look 


116  HELEN    ML'LGRAVE  ;    OR, 

to  stand  between  yon  and  those  rapacious  spirits  that  are  ever 
on  the  watch  to  make  a  prey  of  the  defenceless?  Were  you 
married  to  Fitzgerald,  you  might  oft'er  l>oth  a  protector  and  ail 
asylum  to  your  mother  and  sisters ;  and  in  making  the  happiness 
of  an  excellent  man,  you  would  become  the  dispenser  of  it  to 
your  whole  circle.  One  thing  I  demand  of  you,  in  the  name  of 
that  parent  who  is  not  here  to  require  it  for  himself, — that  you 
•will,  at  least,  receive  the  visits  of  Fitzgerald  in  my  apartments, 
and  in  my  society,  and  thus  give  yourself  an  opportunity  of 
becoming  acquainted  with  him,  and  of  ascertaining  his  merits — 
that  you  may  not  throw  away  a  gem  in  ignorance  of  its  value. 
I  am  quite  aware  of  the  present  state  of  your  feelings,  as  well  as 
of  the  unsuitableness  of  the  moment  for  entertaining  such  a  sub- 
ject ;  but  I  have  already  given  you  my  reasons  for  my  reluct- 
ance to  postpone  it.  Good  God !  the  very  idea  of  your  being 
left  without  a  home,  and  without  a  guide,  subdues  and  destroys 
me.  I  give  you  two  days  to  reflect  on  what  I  have  said.  I 
know  that  in  a  well-principled  mind,  duty  is  paramount  to 
everything,  and  I  anticipate  your  acquiescence  in  my  require- 
ment.' 

So  saying,  he  dismissed  me  to  my  apartment.     My  uncle  was 
not  mistaken  in  thinking  me  capable  of  sacrificing  inclination  to 
duty,   provided  the  duty  were  ascertained;  but  in  this  case  I 
could  not  discern  how  it  had  become  my  duty  to  barter  at  once 
sincerity,  delicacy,  and  propriety,  by  receiving  the  visits  of  a 
man  who  was  disagreeable  to  me,  for  the  deliberate  purpose  ol 
endeavouring  to  cultivate  a  sentiment  which  I  felt  it  would  be 
impossible  for  me  to  entertain. 

Besides  which,  although  it  was  a  long  time  since  I  had  heard 
anything  of  Monsieur  de  Grammont,  except  in  the  affair  of  the 
picture,  and  it  had  wounded  me  deeply  that  he  had  not  addressed 
a  single  line  of  condolence,  either  to  my  uncle  or  myself,  on  the 
occasion  of  my  father's  death,  yet  I  doubted  not  of  the  con- 
stancy of  his  attachment  to  me,  nor  could  I  root  from  my  heart 
the  tenderness  he  had  inspired.  I  did  not  then  know,  nor  for 
years  after,  that  he  had  not  omitted  the  dues  of  courtesy  on  this 
occasion ;  but  that  he  had  written  a  note  to  me,  and  with,  a 
delicacy  which  belonged  to  all  he  did,  had  enclosed  it,  unsealed, 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSHIP.  117 

in  an  address  to  ray  uncle,  entreating  him  to  hand  it  to  me.  My 
uncle  had  thought  proper  to  suppress  it,  and  to  withhold  from 
me  all  knowledge  of  the  occurrence. 

I  ruminated  day  and  night,  of  the  interval  allotted  me  for  con- 
sideration, uncertain  in  what  way  to  communicate  to  my  uncle, 
in  the  least  offensive  manner,  the  determination  I  had  funned 
from  the  first,  to  reject  Mr.  Fitzgerald's  proposals.  The  more  I 
reflected,  the  more  I  was  convinced  that  it  was  as  incompatible 
with  honour  as  with  inclination,  and  the  consideration  due  to 
Mr.  Fitzgerald,  to  suffer  any  further  intercourse  to  take  place, 
seeing  there  was  no  probability  of  my  ever  being  able  to  realize 
the  object  proposed  by  it. 

I  imparted  this  conviction  to  my  uncle  by  note,  hoping  that 
this  mode  of  conveying  my  sentiments  might  prevent  a  renewal 
of  the  subject  in  conversation. 

The  expedient  proved  most  disastrous.  My  note  was  no 
sooner  perused,  than  it  threw  my  uncle  into  a  fit  of  anger,  such 
as  I  had  until  then  thought  it  impossible  for  him  to  be  liable  to 
under  any  circumstances. 

No  doubt  much  of  the  irritation  was  attributable  to  the  state 
of  his  health,  and  his  extreme  anxiety  on  my  account,  although 
it  was  also  evident  that,  unaccustomed  to  opposition,  the  pride 
of  authority  had  been  wounded  by  my  resistance  to  his  will. 

It  was  about  an  hour  after  I  had  sent  my  note,  that  a  servant 
came  running  into  my  room,  in  great  alarm,  to  beg  that  I  would 
go  instantly  to  'the  bishop,  who,  he  said,  appeared  to  be  so  ill 
that  he  almost  feared  he  was  dying. 

The  recollection  of  my  note  filled  me  with  terror ;  and  fearing 
that  to  intrude  on  my  uncle  uncalled  for,  in  the  first  moments 
of  his  disple'asure,  might  but  increase  rather  than  appease  his 
agitation,  I  inquired  if  his  lordship  had  sent  me  any  message, 
and  was  informed  that  he  was  unable  to  speak.  This  intelligence 
put  all  my  discretion  to  flight.  Scarcely  able  to  control  my 
fears,  I  flew  down  stairs,  and  passing  into  his  house  in  breath- 
less agitation,  rushed  into  my  uncle's  study. 

He  had  thrown  himself  into  an  arm-chair,  and  sat  with  his 
head  reclining  on  the  back  of  it,  while  his  left  arm  hung  at  its 
length  over  the  elbow  of  the  chair,  with  the  offensive  note  in 


118  HELEN    MCLORAVE ;    OR, 

his  hand.  His  eyes  were  closed,  Lis  features  slightly  convuK'd, 
and  his  whole  complexion  pale  as  death,  while  his  lower  lip 
quivered  violently.  I  moderated  my  haste  at  the  first  glance  <>f 
him,  and  approached  him  softly.  His  appearance  so  shocked 
me,  that  an  exclamation  of  alarm,  which  I  was  not  able  to  sup- 
press, caused  him  to  open  his  eyes.  The  moment  he  perceived 
me,  he  drew  himself  up  in  his  chair,  and  regarded  me  with  an 
air  of  such  stern  dignity  as  fixed  me  like  a  statue  before  him. 

'Pray,  Miss  Mulgrave,'  said  he,  with  the  most  distinct  articu- 
lation, and  in  a  sarcastic  tone  of  voice,  '  to  what  am  I  indebted 
for  the  honour  of  your  presence  here?  You  have  chosen  to 
adopt  a  new  mode  of  intercourse  with  me,  to  which  you  should 
be  consistent  enough  to  confine  yourself.' 

'  Oh,  my  dear  uncle,'  I  exclaimed,  throwing  myself  at  his  feet, 
'  they  told  me  you  were  very  ill.  How  then  could  I  coldly  stand 
on  ceremony,  and  await  your  permission  to  visit  you  ?  Indeed, 
I  fear  you  are  very  ill — you  look  pale  and  agitated,'  and  as  I 
said  this,  I  unconsciously  threw  a  glance  at  the  offensive  note 
still  in  his  hand.  The  recognition  did  not  escape  him,  but 
seemed  to  renew  his  anger ;  for  with  a  most  perturbed  air,  he 
peremptorily  desired  me  to  rise  and  leave  him.  My  distress  on 
his  account,  however,  forbade  my  compliancej  without  an  effort 
to  restore  him  to  his  wonted  composure. 

'  You  are  angry  with  me,  my  dear  uncle,'  said  I,  '  and  you  call 
me  Miss  Mulgrave,  as  if  I  were  no  longer  your  affectionate  and 
devoted  niece.  What  have  I — '  here  my  uncle  'interrupted  me 
with  a  sarcastic  and  bitter  repetition  of  the  words  '  affectionate 
and  devoted.' 

'  These  are  words  of  derision,  I  presume,  Miss  Mulgrave,  if  they 
have  any  meaning  at  all.  Persons  who  are  "  devoted  and  affec- 
tionate," are  not  accustomed  to  treat  with  contempt  the  objects 
of  their  affection  and  devotion — to  oppose  their  wishes— disdain 
their  advice — and  set  at  naught  their  commands.  But  I  shall 
hold  no  further  conference  with  a  young  lady  whose  acquies- 
cence in  a  scheme  of  happiness,  not  of  her  own  invention, 
would  be  solicited  in  vain,  even  by  a  parent  from  another  world. 
I  have  nothing  more  to  say,  Miss  Mulgrave ;  you  may  retire.' 

How  deeply  did  I  feel  at  that  moment  that  it  was  not  a  parent 


£SriT    EZECCTORSHIP.  11& 

with  whom  I  was  conversing.  I  arose  instantly  from  before 
him,  and,  retreating  a  few  paces,  said :  '  It  is  perhaps  impertinent 
in  me  to  attempt  to  reply  to  you,  my  lord,  after  having  been 
commanded  from  your  presence.  But  it  is  necessary  that  I  say 
a  few  words  in  my  own  defence.  I  see  that  you  are  displeased 
at  the  note  I  have  addressed  to  you.  I  assure  you  it  was  not 
without  great  pain  that  I  yielded  to  the  necessity  of  opposing 
your  wishes.  It  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  remind  your  lordship, 
that  the  affair  on  which  you  proffered  me  your  permission  to 
deliberate,  and  on  which  I  have  endeavoured  to  exercise  my  best 
judgment,  is  one-in  which  I  am  so  deeply  concerned,  that  1  had 
almost  said,  it  is  exclusively  my  own.  And  while  I  desire  only 
to  live  under  your  roof,  and  to  devote  myself  to  the  precious 
duties  of  your  companion  and  nurse,  surely  you  will  not  force 
me  from  you,  or  witkhold  that  approbation,  without  which  I 
should  live  but  to  be  wretched.' 

'  Helen,'  said  my  uncle,  somewhat  softened,  '  you  have  cer- 
tainly a  woman's  tongue  in  great  perfection ;  but  it  would  please 
me  better  if  it  were  associated  with  a  woman's  sense.  There  are 
few  of  your  sex,  situated  as  you  are,  who  would  be  idiots 
enough  to  refuse  such  an  offer  as  Mr.  Fitzgerald's ;  nor  can  I  per- 
suade myself  you  can  be  sincere  in  the  absurd  communication 
you  have  this  morning  made  me,  of  what  you  are  pleased  to  call 
your  decision.  Am  I  to  believe  that  you  have  determined  on 
being  a  beggar  ?  that  you  have  calculated  the  distance  between 
the  palace  and  the  hovel — and  tlfat  you  think  it  an  easy  step 
from  the  one  to  the  other  ?  Or  am  I  to  consider  the  part  you 
are  playing  as  a  trial  at  diplomacy  ?  Do  you  think  to  enhance 
the  value  of  your  compliance  by  the  reluctance  with  which  you 
accompany  it  ?  If  this  be  your  object,  spare  yourself  the  trou- 
ble of  pursuing  it  any  further,  with  me  at  least,  and  reserve  your 
experiments  for  Fitzgerald,  who  will  doubtless  be  able  to  institute 
a  counter-game,  quite  as  subtle  and  quite  as  amusing.' 

All  this  was  uttered  in  a  tone  of  such  bitter  irony,  that  I 
burst  into  tears.  My  uncle  was  more  moved  by  my  tears  than 
by  anything  I  had  said,  and,  resuming  his  usual  kindness  of  man- 
ner, said,  '  I  see,  my  love,  that  you  are  sorry  for  what  you  have 
written,  and  will  consent  to  my  throwing  your  note  into  the 


120  HELEN    MULORAVB  ;    OR, 

fire,  and  to  meeting  Fitzgerald  to-day  at  dinner.  Remember, 
child,  that  your  opposition  will  be  of  no  use  to  you;  although, 
certainly,  I  would  rather  you  should  be  convinced  that  your 
compliance  is  but  required  to  what  is  necessary  to  secure  your 
own  happiness.' 

I  perceived,  notwithstanding  the  milder  language  and  tone  of 
my  uncle,  that  I  had  approached  the  extremity  of  his  forbear- 
ance, and  that  a  single  word  might  exceed  its  bound.  Yet 
it  appeared  indispensable  that  I  should  make  one  effort  more,  in 
firmness  of  spirit,  to  convince  him  that  vacillation  of  mind  had 
not  been  the  cause  of  my  tears.  .  . 

'  My  lord,'  said  I,  '  I  am  aware  of  the  duty  I  owe  you  as  my 
uncle,  and  still  more  as  my  benefactor,  and  the  representative 
of  a  beloved  parent,  whom  I  shall  never  see  again  on  earth.  My 
heart  is  deeply  sensible  of  the  ten  thousand  kindnesses  I  have 
received  at  your  hands,  since  the  day  I  came  under  your  roof  I 
am  aware,  also,  that  I  can  never  repay  them.  But  I  have  given 
you — all  I  have  to  give — the  reverence  and  the  affection  of  my 
heart.  I  am  happy  in  living  near  you,  and  I  want,  now,  no 
other  happiness,  except  that  of  seeing  my  mother  and  sisters, 
through  your  bounty  and  goodness,  as  happy  as  I  am  myself. 
If  I  have  understood  you  aright,  you  have  urged  my  acceptance 
of  Mr.  Fitzgerald,  in  apprehenston  of  my  being  at  sOrne  future 
time  reduced  below  my  present  situation ;  you  will  permit  me  to 
say — and  attribute  it  not  to  a  want  of  delicacy  that  I  presume  to 
speak  at  all  on  such  a  subjdct — I  shall  be  quite  satisfied  with 
whatever  portion  of  your  property  you  may  be  pleased  to 
bestow  on  me ;  and  that  I  shall  be  content,  whenever  necessary, 
to  contract  my  wants,  so  as  neither  to  become  destitute  nor 
embarrassed,  how  limited  soever  my  future  fortune  may  be. 
Will  not  this  assurance,  my  dear  uncle,  remove  from  your  mind 
the  kind  and  too  anxious  concern  you  entertain  respecting  my 
future  lot  ?  And  will  you  not  kindly,  and  for  ever,  discard  the 
subject  of  Mr.  Fitzgerald?' 

'  Folly  !  madness  !'  exclaimed  my  uncle,  as  he  turned  on  me  a 
countenance  distorted  by  anger.  •  Do  you  suppose,  Miss  Mul- 
grave,  that  I  will  suffer  a  young  lady  whom  I  have  introduced  to 
the  world  as  my  niece  and  heiress,  to  sink  down  into  the 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  121 

obscurity  you  propose,  and,  when  I  am  no  more,  blast  my  name 
by  the  meanness  of  her  condition,  and  rob  my  memory  and  my 
ashes  of  the  respect  due  to  them  ?  No  !  My  resolution  is  taken. 
You  shall  marry  Fitzgerald,  or  I  will  disinherit  and  banish  you 
at  once  from  my  protection ;  that,  no  longer  identified  with 
me,  you  may  not  bring  on  me  the  disgrace  which  must  arise 
from  your  grovelling  ideas  of  life  and  happiness !  I  want  no 
reply :  I  will  hear  none.  Fitzgerald  dines  here  to-day.  See 
that  you  are  properly  dressed,  and  in  time  in  the  drawing- 
room.' 

Surprised  and  frightened,  by  this  most  sudden  and  violent 
burst  of  passion,  I  remained  for  several  minutes  riveted  to  the 
spot  on  which  I  stood,  doubtful  if  I  were  really  in  my  senses. 
Was  it  possible  that,  from  my  uncle — my  pious  and  learned 
uncle — I  had  heard  such  an  avowal  of  worldly  feeling  and  per- 
sonal pride  ? 

My  whole  sou]  revolted  against  the  despotism  of  his  treatment, 
and  my  self-love  was  in  every  way  deeply  wounded  by  it. 

Henceforth,  I  was  to  consider  myself  as  only  the  plaything  of 
his  ambition — a  mere  shuttlecock,  crested  with  the  borrowed 
plumes  of  his  dignity,  and  destined  to  be  driven  to  and  fro,  in 
any  direction  that  might  be  pleasing  to  him  or  to  Mr.  Fitzgerald. 
My  heart  swelled  with  indignation  at  the  thought ;  for  the  lesson, 
of  humility  I  had  received  had  not  humbled  me.  I  felt  that  the 
moment  of  fate  had  arrived,  when  perhaps  my  dear  father's 
injunction  was  no  longer  binding.  I  must  at  once,  said  I, 
acquaint  both  my  uncle  and  Mr.  Fitzgerald  that  I  am  a  Protest- 
ant. Who  knows  but  that  such  a  revelation  might  induce  the 
latter  to  relinquish  me?  Upon  second  thoughts,  this  purpose 
was  abandoned,  as  the  desecration  of  a  sacred  instrument  to  a 
worldly  purpose.  No — I  will  not  make  such  an  avowal,  until  I 
can  make  it  in  a  spirit  of  meekness  and  right  feeling.  But  sure- 
ly I  may  inform  my  uncle  that  my  whole  heart  is  devoted  to 
Monsieur  de  Grammont?  Impossible  that,  knowing  this,  he 
would  compel  me  to  utter  the  solemn  vows  of  marriage  to  ano- 
ther ?  I  must  speak  now,  or  be  for  ever  lost.  Yet  how  shall 
I  make  such  a  disclosure  to  so  severe  and  prejudiced  an  adver- 
sary of  Monsieur  de  Grammont  ?  Fears  of  a  convent,  however, 

6 


122  HELEN    MULGRAVE;    OR, 

or  of  its  hated  alternative,  caused  a  rebound  of  feeling  that 
lii-jHvd  my  nerves. 

While  those  thoughts  had  successively  passed  with  lightning 
speed  through  my  mind,  I  was  proceeding  from  the  study 
through  the  library  to  my  own  apartments.  I  suddenly  turned, 
and  re-entered  the  study.  My  uncle,  who  was  pacing  it  in  hasty 
strides,  stood  still  as  I  entered,  and  fixed  on  me  a  stare  of  sur- 
prise. Then  moving  towards  the  mantel-piece,  leant  against  it 
with  folded  arms,  and  a  look  of  disdain  at  once  cool  and  petrify- 
ing. I  felt  that  I  must  speak  quickly,  or  retire.  I  therefore 
said,  '  My  lord,  if  you  will  give  me  a  moment's  further  hearing, 
I  beg  to  say  that  I  think  it  my  duty  to  confide  to  you  what,  per- 
haps, it  had  been  better  you  had  known  before.' 

My  uncle,  with  apparently  quickened  attention,  continued  to 
gaze  on  me  with  haughty  indifference,  but  still  without  a  word, 
and  I  stammeringly  proceeded.  '  I  believe,  my  lord,  indeed,  I 
think  I  am  sure,  that  the  Marquis  de  Grammont,  though  twice 

rejected' I  could  get  no  further  for  several  seconds,  when  I 

again  commenced — '  I  was  endeavouring,  my  lord,  to  mention 
to  you  that  Monsieur  de  Grammont,  notwithstanding  his  rejec- 
tion, considers  me  as  engaged  to  him,  and  I  therefore  could  not 
accept  the  hand  of  any  other  gentleman  in  marriage,  without  his 
permission.' 

A  loud  peal  of  mocking  laughter  was  the  response  to  this  most 
painful  disclosure ;  while  I  stood  before  him  with  my  face 
covered  with  my  hands,  and  my  heart  swelling  with  mortifica- 
tion. When  the  peal  ended,  he  said,  '  Have  you  anything  more 
to  tell  me,  Miss  Mulgrave  ?  You  are  perhaps  married  to  the 
marquis  ?' 

'  No,  my  lord,  I  am  not  married  to  him,  but  I  am  bound  in 
honour  not  to  marry  another.  For  I  have  accepted  him,  and 
we  are  mutually  bound  to  each  other.' 

As  I  paused,  quite  out  of  breath,  and  frightened  at  my  own 
rashness,  my  uncle  approached  me,  and  seizing  my  arm  with  a 
rude  grasp,  said — '  Are  you  mad,  or  wicked,  Miss  Mulgrave  ? 
Is  it  my  brother's  child,  my  own  adopted,  who  thus  speaks  to 
me  of  what  the  modesty  of  her  sex  and  age  should  have  found 
too  sacred  for  utterance  ?  Do  you  mean  to  propose  yourself  in 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  123 

person  to  the  Marquis  de  Grammont?  or  do  you  wish  me  to 
write  to  him,  and  say  that  you  are  at  his  service  ?  You  would, 
it  seems,  marry  a  Protestant — perhaps,  become  one  yourself — 
place  yourself  out  of  the  pale  of  salvation — sell  yourself  to 
Satan — spurn  everlasting  life — and  all  for  a  renegade,  as  apos- 
tate in  love  as  in  faith;  to  whom  you  would  as  vainly  recal  his 
crude  fancy  for  yourself,  as  the  former  devotion  of  his  family  to 
our  holy  church.  But  I  will  put  a  speedy  end  to  all  this ;  you 
are  already  the  betrothed  of  Fitzgerald,  the  marriage  articles  are 
signed,  and  only  your  own  insignificant  signature,  which  a  proxy 
may  supply,  is  wanting  to  make  them  complete ;  for  the  great 
head  of  the  church  sanctions  the  union,  and  your  resistance  will 
be  in  vain.  Go,  therefore,  set  your  thoughts  and  feelings  in 
order,  and  meet  as  you  ought  your  future  husband,  at  the 
appointed  dinner-hour.' 

My  uncle  had  been,  no  doubt  unconsciously,  grasping  my  arm 
with  crushing  violence  during  his  whole  harangue ;  and  the  pain 
lie  occasioned  was  so  acute  as  to  diminish  the  power  of  his 
menaces,  by  dividing  their  terror  with  the  physical  suffering  he 
inflicted ;  as  he  tossed  my  arm  from  him,  I  did  not  wait  to  be 
again  commanded  from  his  presence,  but  with  quick  step  quitted 
his  study,  and  gained  my  own  apartments.  Taking  a  hasty  retro- 
spect of  the  disclosures  just  made  me,  I  became  almost  frantic 
with  resentment  and  terror.  As  resentment  cooled,  torpor  and 
a  sense  of  impotence  succeeded,  that  caused  me  to  throw  myself 
on  the  floor  in  utter  despair. 

Not  that  I  believed  aught  of  the  injurious  taunts  respecting 
Monsieur  de  Grammont,  but  that  I  could  not  disbelieve  my 
uncle's  determination  to  do  all  that  he  had  threatened,  in  the 
disposal  of  myself.  Wearied  with  reflection,  in  which  I  medi- 
tated more  than  once  to  escape  from  my  uncle,  and  throw 
myself  on  the  chances  of  the  highway  and  the  Channel,  which 
led  to  England  and  my  uncle's  house  there,  I  sprang  from  the 
floor,  and  began  to  make  the  circuit  of  my  rooms.  But  I  had 
tlrere  neither  companion  nor  adviser,  and  the  perils  of  an  orphan- 
age so  desolate  assailed  me  for  the  first  time  in  all  their  terrors. 
1  ran  from  room  to  room,  to  escape  from  the  loneliness  that 
surrounded  me,  under  an  isolation  of  feeling  scarcely  endurable. 


124  HELEN  MULGRAVE;  OR, 

If  rny  uncle  should  persist  in  carrying  his  purpose  into  execution 
only  one  means  of  escape  from  the  detested  marriage  vow  re- 
mained to  me;  and  I  resolved  on  resisting,  even  at  the  altar, 
every  effort  to  compel  me  to  pronounce  it.  As  I  gazed  dis- 
tractedly around  me,  my  eye  fell  on  a  newspaper  lying  on  one 
of  the  tables ;  which,  as  I  had  not  seen  it  hefore,  must  have 
been  brought  there  during  my  absence.  I  took  it  idly  up,  and 
found  it  to  be  a  Dublin  paper  of  recent  date ;  but  feeling  unable 
to  read,  I  was  throwing  it  down  again,  when  the  heading  of  one 
of  its  columns  bearing  the  name  of  De  Grammont  fastened  on 
my  sight,  and  called  back  my  wandering  senses  in  an  instant.  It 
announced  a  wedding  in  high  life  in  Paris,  which  ran  as  follows, 
— '  Married,  on  the  19th  ult.,  in  Paris,  at  the  Chapel  of  the 
British  Embassy,  L6once  Louis  Frederic,  Marquis  de  Grammont, 

to '  I  saw  no  more !  Leonce  was  married,  no  matter  to 

whom.  I  stood  with  the  paper  in  my  hand,  like  one  petrified. 
It  was  a  calamity  too  great  for  me  to  realize.  No  tears  came  to 
my  aid,  no  tender  regrets,  but  a  shivering,  sinking  of  heart,  and 
a  feeling  of  being  rent  into  a  thousand  pieces. 

I  had  now  lost  all  motive  for  flight,  or  for  making  any  further 
effort  to  save  myself.  I  cared  no  more  for  life  in  any  form,  the 
brevity  of  it  alone  was  consolitary,  and  who  could  tell  but  mine 
might  be  near  its  close. 

If  L6once  was  happy — and,  of  course,  he  was — I  would  en- 
deavour to  rejoice  in  it,  and  none  should  know  how  much  this 
effort  cost  me. 

I  had  not  long  time  for  rumination.  Long  before  the  cus- 
tomary hour  for  dressing,  Mary  came  into  my  room,  with  a 
message  from  my  uncle,  that  Mr.  Fitzgerald  and  he  would 
dispense  with  my  company  at  dinner  that  day,  and  recommen- 
ding me  to  order  the  chariot,  and  take  a  drive. 

As  I  was  accustomed  to  obey  every  ordinary  suggestion  of 
this  sort  from  him,  and  cared  not,  at  that  moment,  what  I  did 
or  where  I  went,  Mary  and  I  were  soon  driving  rapidly  on  the 
road  leading  to  Mulgrave  Castle. 

The  retrospection  awakened  by  this  locality  softened  my 
feelings,  and  brought  relief  to  my  whole  frame,  in  a  flood  of  tears. 
"When  I  became  calm,  I  inquired  of  Mary  if  she  knew  anything 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  125 

of  the  newspaper  that  lay  on  my  table.  She  said  it  was  brought 
there  by  my  uncle's  valet,  in  my  absence.  The  sickening 
intelligence,  then,  was  known  to  my  uncle,  and  placed  before 
me  by  his  orders.  Perhaps  it  was  this  knowledge  which  induced 
him  to  laugh,  and  scoff  so  unmercifully,  at  the  confidence  I  had 
so  simply  expressed  in  Monsieur  de  Grammont's  constancy  ? 

There  are  epochs  in  life  which  transform  character  almost  in 
a  single  hour.  I  felt  during  my  ride  that  my  whole  nature  was 
changed,  as  it  regarded  all  things  in  this  world ;  and  that  hence- 
forth I  should  but  fight  my  way  through  life,  as  the  soldier 
through  the  ranks  of  his  adversary  on  the  fiehi  of  battle. 

Happy  for  me  if  I  should  also  be  enabled  to  fight  that  battle 
which  wins  everlasting  life  !  I  threw  myself  back  in  the  car- 
riage, and,  lifting  up  my  agonized,  yet  still  proud  heart  to  God, 
found  no  acceptance  with  Him ;  for,  although  they  who  mourn 
are  promised  comfort,  it  is  only  to  the  humble  in  spirit  that 
celestial  consolations  are  imparted.  But  the  sense  of  wrong 
that  filled  my  soul  was  so  bitter,  that  the  humility  of  sincere 
devotion  was  far  from  me. 

As  the  carriage  stopped  on  our  return,  at  my  uncle's  door, 
Mr.  Fitzgerald  presented  himself  to  hand  me  out.  I  found  this 
too  much  for  me ;  and,  lingering  as  long  as  I  could  in  the  car- 
riage, sobbed  from  vexation  and  a  sense  of  insult.  He  no  doubt 
had  seen  the  Dublin  paper,  and  was  acting  entirely  under  my 
uncle's  orders.  I  sprang  forward,  as  he  waited  my  pleasure  at 
the  carriage-door,  and  flew  by  him,  through  my  uncle's  house  to 
my  own. 

When  I  sat  down  to  reflect  on  this  discourtesy,  I  could  hardly 
believe  that  I  had  been  guilty  of  it ;  but  it  was  well  done  if  it 
exempted  me  from  further  advances  on  the  part  of  Fitzgerald. 

As  I  thus  thought,  a  gentle  rap  at  my  door  startled  me,  and  I 
was  moving  forward  to  open  it,  thinking  it  might  be  a  concilia- 
tory visit  from  my  uncle,  when  it  was  opened  from  without,  and 
Mr.  Fitzgerald  walked  in,  with  an  air  somewhat  less  confident 
than  usual,  but  still  with  the  complacency  of  an  acknowledged 
friend,  sure  of  a  welcome. 

He  left  me  not  a  moment  for  embarrassment,  but  approaching 
me  with  an  extended  hand,  begged  to  lead  me  to  a  seat.  I  could 


126  HELEN    MTILQHAVE  J    OR, 

not  again  rnn  away.  This  childish  game  must  end.  I  was 
therefore  led  unresistingly  to  a  chair  in  a  distant  part  of  the 
room.  Then,  pretending  it  must  be  the  wrong  one,  he  marched 
me  to  another,  and  another,  until  I  was  ready  to  laugh  and  cry 
in  a  breath — and,  snatching  my  hand  away,  I  threw  myself  into 
the  seat  which  stood  nearest  to  me. 

'  We  are  happy,  my  dear  Miss  Mulgrave,'  said  he,  with  imper- 
turbable gravity,  '  to  have  got  over  a  serious  difficulty  so 
promptly.'  And,  dropping  himself  into  a  chair  next  to  mine, 
continued,  '  I  hope  you  like  the  seat  you  have  chosen  ?' 

I  turned  my  head  to  him  with  a  repelling  thought  bursting 
for  utterance,  but,  suppressing  it,  looked  another  way,  and 
moved  to  a  window.  He  followed  me,  and  seeing  there  was  no 
escape,  I  gathered  up  as  much  forbearance  as  I  could  muster, 
and  sat  quietly  down  in  a  lounging  chair.  He  now  stood  before 
me,  and  assuming  a  look  of  solemnity  foreign  to  his  nature,  and 
which,  therefore,  looked  like  mockery,  said,  '  I  have  had  per- 
mission from  the  bishop  to  invite  myself  to  dine  with  you  to- 
day, my  dear  Miss  Mulgrave,  if  you  do  not  forbid  me.' 

'  I  thought  yon  were  engaged  to  dine  with  my  uncle?  I  am 
not  in  any  way  prepared  for  the  honour  of  your  company  at  my 
table,  nor  have  I  ever  been  accustomed  to  receive  guests  in  my 
private  apartments.' 

'  But  under  so  high  a  sanction, — almost  under  the  bishop's 
command, — you  can  have  no  objection,  I  hope,  for  once,  to  devi- 
ate from  the  rigid  rule  you  have  hitherto  prescribed  to  yourself; 
especially — if  I  may  be  permitted  to  mention  it, — the  relation  in 
which  I  hope  so  shortly  to  stand  to  you,  should  obtain  for  me  at 
least  an  hour's  private  converse.' 

'  An  hour's  talk  ?  Oh,  pray  say  what  you  have  to  say  at  once. 
I  will  emulate  your  frankness,  and  we  shall  understand  each 
other  in  five  minutes.' 

1  Frankly,  then,' — and  he  dropped  on  one  knee  as  he  spoke — 
'I  am  here  to  express  my  homage,  and  to  offer  you  my  hand,  and 
a  devoted  heart.  Will  you  not  deign  to  accept  the  offering?' 

;  No,  sir.' 

'You  will  not?  You  are  cruel,  Miss  Mulgrave,'  said  he, 
smiling  with  an  amused  air. 


JESUIT    EXJECUTOUSlIir.  127 

Tlien  rising,  be  drew  a  chair  close  beside  me,  and  attempted 
to  take  my  band,  but  did  not  succeed. 

'  Mr.  Fitzgerald,'  said  I,  coldly,  '  be  not  offended  at  what  it  is 
necessary  for  me  to  say  to  you.  I  have  no  heart  to  present  you 
in  exchange  for  yours,  and  I  therefore  beg  to  decline  your  offer, 
now  and  for  ever.' 

'  Are  you  so  insensible  ?  Am  I  so  hateful  to  you  ?  Oh,  Helen ! 
if,  like  your  namesake,  a  ten  year's  siege  may  win  you,  you  will 
yet  be  mine.  Are  you  prepared  for  so  long  a  warfare?  But  I 
am  sure  you  will  relent.  It  cannot  be,  that  so  fair  a  form  was 
created  without  a  heart.  What  can  you  have  done  with  it? 
Only  tell  me  whither  it  has  wandered,  and  I  will  fly  to  the  most 
distant  regions  of  the  earth  to  fetch  it  back,  in  the  hope  of 
receiving  it  as  my  reward,  with  this  fair  hand,  on  my  return,' 
raising  my  hand  at  the  same  instant  abruptly  to  his  lips. 

I  burst  into  tears  at  this  freedom,  feeling  that  he  was  indeed 
making  a  plaything  of  me  at  my  uncle's  prompting. 

He  rose  at  sight  of  my  tears,  and  said  he  had  not  courage  to 
behold  them,  nor  could  he  ever  forgive  himself  for  causing  them. 

1  How  may  I  obliterate  the  offence  I  have  given  you  ?'  said  he. 

'  By  leaving  me,'  said  I. 

'  That  is  a  cruel  penance,  but  if  you  Avill  say  that  it  shall  obtain 
my  pardon,  and  give  me  but  a  hope  of  being  permitted  to  wait 
on  you  to-morrow,  I  will  relieve  you  instantly  of  my  hated  pre- 
sence, and  eat  my  morsel  of  bread  with  bitter  herbs  below  with 
the  bishop,  instead  of  feasting  with  you  on  the  nectar  and 
ambrosia  of  Olympus  ;'  and  again  seizing  my  hand,  and  pressing 
it  to  his  lips,  he  flew  out  of  the  room. 

I  had  observed  more  than  once,  while  he  was  with  me,  a  sort 
of  excitement  in  look  and  manner,  which  suggested  the  idea  of 
insanity  or  inebriety.  Could  it  be  possible  that  he  was  under  the 
influence  of  either  the  one  or  the  other?  While  I  was  thus" 
questioning  with  myself,  a  tap  at  the  door  announced  his  return, 
and  he  was  the  next  instant  again  in  the  room,  shutting  the  door 
after  him,  which  when  he  had  done,  he  came  up  to  me,  and 
dropped  on  one  knee  before  me,  with  a  look  of  irony  and 
extravagant  merriment  that  alarmed  me.  I  did  not  wait  an 
explanation,  but  darting  past  him,  was  out  of  the  room  in  a 


MULGUAVK;  OK, 

moment.  I  locked  myself  into  my  chamber,  which  was  too  dis- 
tant for  me  to  hear  his  movements,  and  remained  there  until 
Mary  announced  my  dinner.  I  inquired  if  any  one  was  in  the 
dining-room ;  and  as  she  said  only  the  footman,  I  descended, 
and  took  my  meal  without  disturbance. 

The  way  in  which  Mr.  Fitzgerald  had  compelled  me  to  treat 
him  was  far  from  satisfactory  to  myself,  yet  I  could  not  suggest 
any  more  effectual  mode  of  quietly  accomplishing  an  affront 
which  might  possibly  relieve  me  from  any  further  importunity 
on  his  part.  As  to  my  uncle,  I  dared  not  think  of  him ;  but 
there  was  an  effort  yet  to  be  made  to  deliver  myself  from  his 
persecutions,  which  could  not  be  deferred,  and  I  wrote  him  the 
following  note : — 

My  dear  Uncle, 

'  You  told  me  this  morning  that  I  was  betrothed  to  Mr. 
Fitzgerald,  and  that  the  marriage  articles  were  signed  by  ah1  par- 
ties except  myself.  You  remarked  that  my  signature  might  be 
made  by  proxy.  Of  course,  that  could  be  only  a  jest,  or  an 
hyperbole  of  speech.  I  take  it  for  granted,  then,  that  my  signa- 
ture, in  my  own  hand,  is  essential  to  such  a  contract.  That 
being  the  case,  I  write — with  all  duteousness  of  feeling,  what- 
ever may  be  thought  to  the  contrary — to  say  that  nothing  can 
induce  me  to  sign  the  marriage  articles  in  question,  nor  can  I 
allow  myself  to  utter  false  vows  before  the  altar.  Having  after 
much  reflection,  arrived  at  this  decision,  I  hope  you  will  not 
again  permit  Mr.  Fitzgerald  to  be  put  to  the  useless  trouble  of 
making  professions  of  attachment  to  me,  to  which  my  heart  can- 
not respond. 

4 1  pray  you  to  pardon  the  terms  in  which  I  have  framed  this 
note,  as  it  seemed  to  me  due  to  all  parties  that  I  should  be  per- 
'fectly  explicit.  Deign  to  believe  me  still,  my  dear  uncle,  hoping 
for  your  indulgence,  your  most  grateful  niece, 

'  H.  M.' 

My  protest  thus  made,  Mr.  Fitzgerald  and  his  eccentricity  were 
soon  obliterated,  except  the  conviction  which  grew  stronger  on 
retrospection,  that  he  was  certainly  in  a  state  of  partial  inebri;i- 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  129 

tion,  when  he  so  ridiculously  intruded  himself  on  me.  The  great 
event  of  the  day.  was,  and  would  continue  to  be,  an  irreparable 
calamity,  which  must  be  borne  in  silence  as  best  it  might.  It 
was  one  of  those  sorrows  which  cannot  be  participated,  and 
which  admits  of  no  alleviation  but  in  that  resignation  to  the 
Divine  will,  attainable  only  after  long  suffering. 

On  the  following  morning,  after  breakfast,  I  sent  my  note  of 
the  last  evening  to  my  uncle,  and  learnt  of  the  messenger  who 
carried  it  that  Mr.  Fitzgerald  was  with  him.  The  two  gentlemen 
were  then  in  council,  and  I  endeavoured  to  think  that  I  might 
bid  defiance  to  fate,  for  that  I  could  scarcely  be  placed,  by  any 
machinations,  in  a  much  worse  position  than  I  already  was,  even 
if  the  determination  to  force  me  into  the  marriage  should  be 
prosecuted  with  the  energy  of  will  peculiar  to  my  uncle.  I 
hoped  that  Mr.  Fitzgerald,  as  he  would  unavoidably  see  my  note, 
might,  either  from  generosity  or  resentment,  terminate  the  nego- 
tiation. 

But  I  was  not  long  permitted  to  meditate  on  present  or  distant 
evil.  An  event  was  at  hand  which  subdued  all  my  fortitude, 
and  made  me  an  unresisting  victim  of  the  fate  that  awaited  me. 
Scarcely  an  hour  had  elapsed  after  the  departure  of  my  note, 
before  I  was  called  to  my  uncle's  study,  to  behold  him  under  the 
influence  of  an  apoplectic  seizure,  which  threatened  his  life. 
Mr.  Fitzgerald  was  with  him,  and  on  seeing  me  enter,  approached 
me  with  an  alarmed  expression  of  countenance,  and  said — '  Alas, 
Miss  Mulgrave,  I  fear  your  note  has  killed  your  uncle.' 

As  he  observed  the  shock  he  had  inflicted,  he  added,  in  a 
deprecating  tone — 'Do  not  take  me  literally.  The  bishop's 
malady  is  constitutional ;  and,  most  likely,  could  not  have  been 
averted.' 

I  reflected  on  this  remark  afterwards,  as  indicative  of  good- 
nature, at  least. 

The  valets,  under  the  direction1  of  two  medical  men,  were 
removing  my  uncle  to  his  bed-room.  He  appeared  quite  insensi- 
ble, and  was  an  affecting  spectacle  of  impotence,  sufficient  to 
move  any  beholder.  He  had  formerly  recovered  from  a  similar 
attack,  but  it  WJN  IMP  Irs;  serious  than  this.  As  for  me,  fearing 
that  by  ray  note  I  had  been  the  cause  of  it,  I  followed  the 

6* 


130  HELEN  MULGRAVE;  OK, 

attendants  to  the  bed-room  door,  in  speechless,  unutterable 
agony.  Never  until  now  had  I  known  remorse — that  feeling 
which  fastens  on  the  heart  like  '  the  worm  that  never  dieth.' 
What  was  the  deepest  or  the  tenderest  grief  compared  with 
this  ?  It  was  but  as  the  cry  or  tear  of  infancy.  Until  we  know 
guilt — until  we  are  placed  in  affinity  with  crime,  we  can  never 
be  said  to  have  drunk  the  cup  of  human  misery  to  the  dregs. 
"What  was  even  the  wretchedness  of  a  marriage  with  Fitzgerald, 
compared  with  the  guilt  of  having  destroyed  a  human  life  ?  All 
my  estimates  of  right  and  wrong  seemed  at  once  changed.  That 
which  only  a  few  hours  ago  had  appeared  to  me  but  a  duty  to 
myself — but  a  simple  effort  of  self-preservation — now  assumed 
the  character  of  rebellion  against  paternal  authority,  and  the 
coercive  benevolence  of  a  father.  These  distracting  reflections 
disturbed  my  reason,  as  I  sat  in  a  distant  corner  of  my  uncle's 
chamber,  watching  the  slow  processes  of  remedial  treatment.  • 

For  some  time  my  uncle  had  been  getting  worse,  and  a  tempo- 
rary suspension  of  experiments  had  left  him  alone  in  bed,  while 
the  doctors  retired  for  further  consultation  to  an  adjoining 
room.  My  uncle's  personal  servant  sat  outside  the  door  of  his 
chamber. 

A  solemn  quiet  pervaded  it.  Overpowered  by  what  I  beheld, 
and  fearing  that  all  hope  had  been  abandoned,  I  crept  softly  to 
the  bedside  of  my  uncle,  in  a  state  little  short  of  aberration,  and 
kneeling  down  beside  him,  took  one  of  his  cold,  unconscious 
hands,  and  vowed  solemnly  on  it,  in  an  emphatic  whisper,  that 
if  it  might  please  God  to  restore  him,  and  bring  him  back  again 
to  consciousness,  I  would  comply  with  all  his  requirements,  to 
the  very  letter,  and  marry  whom  he  pleased.  Having  said  this,  I 
finished  solemnly  with  the  words — ' So  help  me  God!'  and  kiss- 
ed my  uncle's  hand. 

Fitzgerald,  who  was  sitting  quite  out  of  sight,  behind  one  of 
the  bed-curtains,  suddenly,  but  silently,  came  forward,  and 
kneeling  down  by  my  side,  took  my  uncle's  hand  out  of  mine, 
and  in  a  distinct  whisper  said — '  I  also  vow,  on  this  hand,  to  per- 
form every  wish  of  its  venerable  owner,  and  marry  whom  he 
may  direct.' 

This  most  unforeseen  inc-ident  might  have  been  a  severe  trial 


JESUIT   KXKCUTORSHIP.  181 

to  the  sincerity  of  my  vow ;  but  my  heart  was  so  emptied  of 
every  feeling^except  the  desire  of  my  uncle's  restoration  to  life, 
that  the  occurrence  scarcely  moved  me.  Neither  did  I  hasten 
to  rise  from  the  posture  in  which  my  vow  had  been  made,  but 
burying  my  face  in  the  bed  clothes,  addressed  myself  to  silent 
prayer.  I  know  not  how  long  I  remained  thus.  My  heart  at 
last  felt  relieved  of  part  of  its  load,  and  the  dying  hand  I  was 
holding  in  mine  had  become  warm.  .  All  at  once  I  felt  one  of  its 
fingers  twitch.  The  movement  acted  on  me  like  an  electric 
shock.  I  sprang  up,  and  beckoning  the  doctors  to  approach, 
whispered  what  had  occurred.  They  made  no  reply,  but  begin- 
ning to  examine  the  person  of  the  patient,  I  retreated  to  my  own 
rooms.  In  a  few  hours  I  was  apprized,  by  a  message  from 
them,  that  the  circulation  was  returning  gradually  over  the 
whole  frame,  and  that  there  was  hope  of  even  more  decisive 
symptoms  of  improvement  in  a  short  time. 

My  thankfulness  on  receipt  of  this  message,  and  my  joy  when, 
two  hours  after,  a  return  to  consciousness  was  announced,  was  as 
unbounded  as  my  distress  had  been.  No  criminal  in  a  court  of 
justice,  unexpectedly  hearing  from  a  jury  the  sentence  of  '  not 
guilty,'  was  ever  relieved  of  a  heavier  load. 

The  wrong  we  do  ourselves,  however,  has  its  own  peculiar 
guilt  and  consequences ;  and  is  seldom  expiated,  but  in  that  cru- 
cible which,  while  it  purifies,  destroys. 

In  the  course  of  a  week,  my  uncle  had  regained  his  customary 
health.  I  had  seen  very  little  of  Fitzgerald  since  the  scene  in 
the  sick  chamber ;  but  a  former  impression  of  his  good  nature 
had  been  confirmed  by  several  incidents  in  the  progress  of  my 
xmcle's  convalescence.  Yet  my  repugnance  to  marrying  hjm  was 
scarcely  less  than  it  had  been  originally. 

I  soon,  however,  became  sensible  that  I  had  forged  fetters  for 
myself,  which  would  be  rivetted  with  a  rigour  and  promptitude 
exceeding  my  worst  fears.  My  uncle  was,  indeed,  in  high  good 
humour;  and  he  endeavoured  to  expedite  the  marriage,  with  an 
urgency  that  must  have  been  revolting  to  both  parties.  When- 
ever I  was  more  than  usually  sad,  he  would  exhort  me  to  '  cheer 
up,  for  the  happy  day  would  soon  arrive.' 

On  one  occasion,  when  he  was  lacerating  me  with  such  antici 


132  HELEN  MULGBAVE;  OR, 

pations,  I  could  not  restrain  my  tears,  and  remarked  to  him,  that 
although  my  vow  on  his  account,  having  been  made  to  God, 
must,  if  he  held  me  to  it,  be  fulfilled,  it  was  yet  in  his  power  to 
save  me  from  the  consequences  of  the  rashness  of  which  I  had 
been  guilty,  and  which  I  had  committed  only  under  the  influ- 
ence of  irrepressible  terror  at  the  thought  of  losing  him.  It  was 
in  vain  I  thus  disclosed  to  him  the  state  of  my  feelings.  I 
appealed  to  his  compassion,  to  his  generosity,  to  the  paternal 
relation  in  which  he  stood  to  me.  My  uncle  was  inexorable  in 
demanding  '  the  bond !'  Had  the  '  pound  of  flesh'  been  included 
in  it,  he  would  doubtless  have  been  equally  inflexible,  and  thus 
exhibited  the  type  of  a  new  Shylock  in  sacerdotal  cloth.  One 
expedient  yet  remained.  I  had  never  appealed  to  Mr.  Fitzgerald 
himself  on  a  religious  ground,  but  I  now  thought  it  possible  that 
I  might  obtain  from  him  a  resignation  of  me  on  this  account.  I 
therefore  took  an  opportunity  of  stating  to  him  that  both  in  opi- 
nion and  feeling,  I  was  what  he  must  consider  a  heretic.  And 
placing  before  him,  not  only  the  inconveniences,  but  the  mutual 
bitternesses,  that  must  arise  from  discordancy  on  so  material  a 
point  as  that  of  religion,  I  begged  him  to  consider  before  it  was 
too  late,  the  fact  of  which  I  had  informed  him,  in  which  I  had 
no  doubt  he  would  find  sufficient  reason  for  resigning  me,  or  for 
deferring  indefinitely  the  contemplated  solemn  engagement. 

As  I  ceased  speaking,  he  burst  into  a  hearty  laugh,  exclaim- 
ing, '  Really,  my  dear  Miss  Mulgrave,  as  it  is  the  first  time  yon 
have  ever  condescended  to  ask  a  favour  of  me,  I  am  immensely 
miserable  at  not  being  able  to  grant  your  request.  But  much 
as  you  fancy  you  would  oblige  yourself  by  jilting  me,  I  am  not 
sure  you  could  live  without  me  ;  and  the  sacrifice  you  demand, 
would  certainly  plunge  me  into  a  premature  grave;  and  you 
•would  then,  most  assuredly,  be  offering  up  your  own  dear  little 
life  to  restore  mine.  Besides,  I  have  not  the  smallest  objection 
to  your  Huguenotwm.  You  may  make  a  conventicle  of  Beech 
Park,  and  have  your  own  chaplain  resident  in  it  (provided  he  is 
a  venerable  man),  so  that  you  will  allow  me  a  quiet  seat  in  some 
chimney  corner  there,  whence  I  may  peep  at  you,  and  hear  the 
music  of  your  voice  occasionally.  Pray  withdraw  your  motion, 
or  positively  I  must  betray  your  confidence,  and  tell  the  bishop 


JESUIT    EXECUTOR8HIP.  13? 

of  it;  for  I  am  sure  he  has  no  notion  of  so  serious  a  peccadillo 
in  one  whom  he  deems  perfect  in  every  accomplishment  except 
common  sense.  He  sadly  deplores  your  want  of  that ;  and  since 
it  makes  you  blind  to  my  'merits,  I  ought  to  deplore  it  too,  if  I 
could  convince  myself  that  you  really  lacked  it.  But  I  do 
myself  the  justice  to  believe  that  this  want  of  common  sense 
Avould  never  have  caused  the  smallest  objection  to  me,  if  I  had 
not  been  forced  on  you  by  authority.  You  will  forget  that, 
before  we  have  been  married  a  year,  and  will  then  dote  on  me, 
as  all  the  rest  of  your  sex  do.  Pray  don't  look  so  grave — sure- 
ly, truth  cannot  be  distasteful  to  you,  and  I  repeat,  that  the 
women  everywhere  worship  me!' 

During  this  extraordinary  effusion,  I  regarded  his  countenance 
with  attention,  and  discerned  the  same  symptoms  I  had  observed 
more  than  once  before.  I  could  not  be  mistaken.  It  was,  alas! 
an  artificial  exhilaration,  almost  amounting  to  inebriety.  Must 
I  close  my  eyes  to  such  a  trait  as-  this  in  the  character  of  the  man 
destined  to  be  my  husband  ?  Oh,  how  my  heart  sickened  at 
the  thought ! 

It  was  impossible  for  two  persons  to  be  more  unsuitable  to 
each  other  than  Mr.  Fitzgerald  and  myself.  I  made  the  remark 
to  him  more  than  once,  in  the  hope  of  inducing  him  to  reflect 
on  the  fact.  .  But  he  held  fast  to  his  purpose,  as  though  his  life 
or  his  fortune  would  be  staked  by  its  abandonment ;  treating  me 
as  a  child  that  might  be  amused  or  conciliated  by  petting  and 
adulation.  With  what  motives  my  uncle  plied  him,  I  know  not. 
The  natural  inconstancy  of  his  tastes  and  pursuits  would  have 
been  sufficient,  under  ordinary  influences,  to  have  worn  out  his 
penchant  for  me  in  a  far  shorter  time  than  the  six  weeks  he  had 
already  devoted  to  it.  But  my  uncle,  as  a  third  party,  who  had 
gratuitously  charged  himself  with  my  destiny,  was  the  more 
inexplicable  person  of  the  two.  I  could  not  but  suppose  him 
solicitous  for  my  welfare  and  happiness ;  yet  whence  his  utter 
disregard  of  my  own  inclinations?  His  error  seemed  to  lie  in 
the  ideas  that  marriage  was  essential  to  happiness,  and  weiiltli 
and  station  essential  to  marriage.  "Fatal  errors !  sweeping 
through  the  land,  and  every  day  making  victims  of  the  inexpe- 
rienced and  the  thoughtless  in  all  ranks  of  life. 


134  HELEN    MTTLGRAVE  J    OR, 

My  dear  father  had  been  dead  but  foar  months,  and  my 
brother  a  still  shorter  time ;  but  the  wedding  day,  which  had 
been  fixed  without  consulting  me,  obliged  me  to  exchange  deep 
mourning  for  bridal  attire.  What  of  this  ?  No  outrage  of  feel- 
ing could  be  worth  a  thought,  compared  with  that  of  extorting 
marriage  vows  from  an  unattached  and  repugnant  heart.  '  At 
least,  dear  uncle,'  said  I,  '  permit  me,  for  the  sake  of  the  dead, 
to  retain  a  slight  mourning,  and  let  the  ceremony  be  private.' 

'  I  will  have  no  private  doings,'  said  he.  '  I  am  marrying  you 
to  a  man  whom  all  his  county  and  connexions  delight  to 
honour ;  and  my  niece  shall  neither  disgrace  me  nor  herself  by 
her  caprice  or  her  sentimentality  on  this  occasion.' 

At  length  the  dreaded  morning  came.  When  I  found  myself 
a  conspicuous  object  amongst  the  gay  and  smiling  guests  of  my 
uncle's  drawing-rooms,  it  was  with  difficulty  I  retained  my 
senses.  I  neither  recognised  faces  nor  remembered  names,  and  I 
heard  not  the  compliments  addressed  to  me.  I  was  an  automa- 
ton, whose  machinery  was  deranged ;  or  a  galvanised  corpse, 
with  eyes  that  saw  not,  and  ears  that  heard  not.  Yet,  in  spite 
of  this  incapacity,  I  was  invested  with  a  part  in  the  drama  of 
the  hour,  that  bound  me  for  life  to  a  man  with  whom  I  had  as 
yet  never  been  able  to  reciprocate  a  feeling,  or  exchange  a 
thought. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

I  WAS  able,  in  reflecting  on  my  uncle's  conduct,  after  the  dis- 
tress and  agitation  of  the  wedding  had  passed  away,  to  make 
many  excuses  for  his  coercive  and  cruel  treatment  of  me,  when 
I  considered  the  distracted  state  of  his  mind  on  pecuniary 
accounts,  arising  out  of  the  large  debt  which  my  father  had  con- 
tracted to  him,  by  whose  early  and  sudden^  death  all  possibility 
of  future  liquidation  was  precluded.  From  the  day  that  I  was 
married,  I  entered  on  a  career  of  suffering  which  I  would  fain 
believe  is  not  frequent  in  married  life.  But  I  became  a  dutiful 
wife,  so  far  as  the  duties  of  tho  character  may  be  performed 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  135 

under  the  circumstances  of  an  union  like  mine.  To  satisfy  my 
own  mind  in  this  respect,  was,  indeed,  at  first,  the  only  object 
left  me  in  life.  But  wnen  I  found  that  my  husband  had  really 
been  in  earnest  in  offering  me,  before  marriage,  liberty  of  con- 
science, and  that  when  I  proposed  to  avail  myself  of  this  offer, 
he  consistently  acquiesced  in  it,  I  had  a  new  and  animating 
motive,  which  made  duty  grateful,  as  well  as  exact. 

Mj  uncle  lived  but  a  few  months  after  the  accomplishment  of 
his  object ;  and,  irritated  to  the  highest  degree  by  my  husband's 
acquiescence  in  my  secession  from  the  Komish  church,  which  I 
formally  accomplished  at  this  time,  he  never  would  see  us  more. 
This  indulgence  on  the  part  of  my  husband,  whether  from  utter 
indifference  to  religion,  or  a  desire  to  conciliate  me,  was  fraught 
with  blessings  to  me. 

My  husband  was  an  only  child — impetuous  and  self-willed, 
undisciplined  and  lawless.  In  seeking  me  for  a  wife,  he  must 
have  been  influenced  by  public  taste,  and  the  ambition  of  marry- 
ing the  daughter  of  a  man  so  universally  popular  and  beloved 
as  my  father.  He  required  neither  intellect  nor  principle,  and 
would  no  doubt  have  been  better  satisfied  had  he  found  me 
without  either.  But  there  can  be  no  excuse  for  a  woman  of 
principle,  if  she  do  not  make  an  infinitely  better  wife,  as  well  as 
a  more  indulgent  one,  than  a  woman  of  negative  qualities. 

AVe  never  had  any  domestic  feuds,  but  my  husband's  impet- 
uosity at  first  intimidated,  and  afterwards  revolted  me.  His 
wild  caprices  and  irregular  habits  precluded  any  system  in  our 
mode  of  life ;  and  while  he  professed  a  passionate  attachment  to 
me,  he  seemed  often  to  forget  that  I  was  in  existence.  Never- 
theless, had  I  been  simply  indifferent  to  him,  had  I  not  been 
coerced  into  marriage  with  him,  that  gratitude  for  attachment 
which  is  so  natural  to  the  female  heart,  might  possibly  have 
obtained  for  him  some  return  of  affection.  Clear-sighted  to  my 
husband's  faults  and  vices,  I  became  hopeless  of  his  reform. 
Perhaps  he  discerned  this  hopelessness,  and  abandoned  himself 
to  his  evil  courses.  Nevertheless,  it  was  neither  neglect  of  duty, 
nor  the  omission  of  conciliation,  on  my  part,  that  rendered  us 
unhappy ;  but  it  was  that  vice  and  misery  are  in  their  very  nature 
inseparable.  And  how  blind  soever  a  wife  may  wish  to  be,  or 


136  HELEN    MULGRAVE  ;    OR, 

may  fancy  it  her  duty  to  be,  to  vices  for  which  she  is  not 
responsible,  there  are  kinds  and  amounts  of  wrong  with  which 
she  can  make  no  compromise  but  at  the  peril  of  everything  that 
is  sacred  in  feeling  and  in  conscience.  Nor  had  I  been  formed, 
either  by  precept  or  example,  for  that  temporizing  morality 
required  in  the  wife  of  a  man  devoted  to  self-gratification,  and 
regardless  of  all  claims  but  those  of  inclination.  My  husband 
was  naturally  fond  of  convivial  pleasures,  and,  from  the  earliest 
period  of  our  marriage,  surrounded  himself  with  congenial  com- 
panions. 

He  was  also  fond  of  music,  and,  possessing  an  exquisite  voice, 
as  well  as  science  and  taste,  his  popularity  in  such  society  was 
unbounded. 

This  popularity  increased,  and  perpetuated  the  illusions  of  his 
mind,  fostering  his  errors  until  they  became  inveterate  and 
incurable.  The  solitariness  of  our  mansion  did  not  insure 
retirement,  for  whenever  Fitzgerald  was  at  home,  it  was  filled 
with  visitors,  so  that  we  were  scarcely  ever  left  a  single  day 
alone  in  the  society  of  each  other. 

Fond  of  the  sports  of  the  field,  my  husband  was  frequently 
absent  for  weeks  together;  and  whilst,  in  the  acquirement  of 
essential  knowledge,  I  endeavoured  to  find  a  remedy  against 
loneliness  of  heart,  I  but  widened,  by  the  exercise  of  my  facul- 
ties, the  distance  betwixt  him  and  myself. 

Conviviality  naturally  led  to  inebriety,  and  he  was  sometimes 
brought  home  by  his  servants  from  an  entertainment,  at  four  or 
five  in  the  morning,  in  a  condition  degrading  to  human  nature. 
In  his  two  latter  years  this  became  a  frequent  and  almost  a  per- 
petual occurrence. 

We  lived  on  for  some  time  in  a  course  of  this  sort,  interrupted 
only  by  those  occasional  indispositions  which  the  excesses  of  the 
table  produced,  and  which  kept  him  a  short  time  at  home  a 
patient  of  mine. 

On  these  occasions  it  frequently  happened  that  a  transient 
gleam  of  goodness  would  break  out  in  his  character,  and  a  tem- 
porary relish  of  home  produce  almost  a  transforming  effect  on 
his  manners. 

But  that  consciousness  of  error  which  never  leads  to  reforma- 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  137 

tion,  debases  the  mind,  and  even  gives  an  impetus  to  its  down 
ward  course. 

My  husband  had  no  sooner  recovered  his  strength  and  spirits, 
than  he  again  left  home  in  quest  of  new  excitements. 

Meantime,  a  derangement  in  his  pecuniary  affairs  occurred,  and 
the  customary  advances  for  the  current  expenses  of  the  house 
became  deeply  in  arrear. 

I  had  learnt,  from  the  misfortunea  of  my  dear  father,  the 
perilousness  of  long-standing  accounts,  and  had  therefore  from 
the  first,  on  assuming  my  domestic  duties  at  Beech  Park,  been 
rigid  in  requiring  of  my  housekeeper  punctually  to  settle  all  her 
accounts  every  three  months.  I  had  never  been  restricted  in 
my  domestic  expenditure,  except  by  my  own  discretion,  and 
now,  becoming  apprehensive  that  we  might  be  living  on  too 
great  a  scale  of  expense  for  my  husband's  revenues,  I  one  day 
proposed  to  him,  with  great  deference,  that  I  might  be  allowed 
to  make  some  retrenchments. 

He  impatiently  replied  that  there  was  no  occasion  for  so  pal- 
try an  expedient,  and  expressed  his  displeasure  at  my  supposing 
that  the  arrears  in  the  customary  advances  were  anything  more 
than  a  temporary  irregularity.  It  nevertheless  continued  until  I 
was  driven  to  the  greatest  imaginable  straits  for  the  smallest 
amounts  of  cash. 

My  housekeeper  beseechingly  offered  me  loans,  for  it  was 
impossible  to  conceal  from  her  that  I  was  without  funds  ;  but  of 
course  I  never  allowed  myself  to  accept  her  assistance  ;  and  we 
continued  to  live  for  some  time  on  that  unbounded  credit  which 
my  husband's  known  wealth  and  our  former  habits  of  punctual 
and  periodical  payments  had  obtained  for  us,  both  in  town  and 
country. 

Nevertheless,  the  day  of  reckoning  came  at  last.  Fitzgerald's 
health  grew  worse  and  worse ;  but  this  did  not  wean  him  from 
his  excesses,  and  he  continued  to  accumulate  debts  of  honour  at 
the  gaming-table,  until  a  ruined  reputation  caused  his  expulsion 
from  the  circles  in  which  he  had  hitherto  moved,  and  forced 
him  on  the  resources  of  home  for  society. 

I  saw  at  once  that  he  was  in  a  state  of  alarming  decline,  both 
in  health  and  spirits.  It  was  evidently  £s  much  too  late  to 


138  HELEN    MULGKAVE  J    OK, 

repair  his  health,  as  it  evidently  proved  to  be  to  retrieve  his 
social  position  and  character. 

All  I  could  do  for  him  was  to  nurse  him  with  incessant  care. 
He  awoke  to  the  charm  of  domestic  affections,  when  he  had  no 
longer  strength  to  endure  the  interesting  society  and  caresses  of 
his  children  ;  and  very  soon  became  so  ill  as  to  be  confined,  by 
the  doctor's  orders,  to  his  bed.  * 

There  were  some  two  or  three  Romish  priests,  one  of  whom 
was  a  distinguished  Jesuit,  living  in  the  vicinity  of  Beech  Park, 
who  at  this  juncture  first  began  to  come  about  the  house,  with 
pretexts  of  various  kinds  for  obtaining  access  to  the  sick  man's 
chamber.  I  was  in  great  anxiety  respecting  his  religious  state, 
and  not  knowing  what  might  be  passing  in  his  mind,  I  thought 
it  right  to  apprize  him  of  the  urgency  of  the  priests  to  obtain  an 
interview  with  him. 

But  Fitzgerald  had  always  held  the  priestood  of  his  church  in 
abhorrence,  and  had  never,  since  the  time  of  our  marriage,  com- 
plied with  any  religious  requirements. 

No  confessions — no  penances — and  I  may  add,  no  prayers; 
for,  revolted  as  he  declared  himself  to  be  by  what  he  deemed 
the  hypocrisy  of  his  church,  he  would  have  no  communion  with 
it,  although  he  made  no  effort  openly  to  renounce  its  doctrines 
or  contend  with  its  .practices. 

One  day,  as  he  lay  on  his  sick  bed,  he  deplored,  in  strong  and 
affecting  language,  the  dubious  position  in  which  he  stood  with 
a  power  so  formidable  as  that  of  a  Popish  priest  armed  with  the 
authority  of  his  church. 

I  inquired  why  he  did  not  emancipate  himself  from  bonds 
which  were  so  oppressive  and  so  abhorrent  to  him. 

'  You  know  not,'  he  replied,  '  what  you  advise.  A  real 
emancipation  is  impossible,  where  the  powers  of  that  church 
are  protected  by  law.  Its  spiritual  powers,  as  they  are  called 
— only  to  blind  those  who  discern  not  their  true  character — arc 
neither  more  nor  less  than  a  secular  and  social  despotism, 
which,  in  concert  with  that  serpent-like  influence  which  the 
priests  assume  and  obtain  over  the  minds  of  all  who  lend  to 
them  a  listening  ear,  becomes  a  leviathan  with  which  it  is 
impossible  to  contend,  without  becoming  its  victim.  _ 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSHIP.  139 

'  What  is  life— what  is  property — in  the  hands  of  the  priest  ? 
They  dissolve  under  his  very  touch,  and  pass  away,  none  know- 
ing how  or  whither.  I  lie  here,  bereft  of  all  my  illusions,  and 
like  Don  Quixotte,  I  expire  with  them.  The  priests  I  Oh,  had 
I  but  health,  or  even  the  strength  of  a  child,  I  might  protect 
you  and  my  children  from  their  grasp ;  for  be  assured  you  will 
fall -into  it.  I  see  you,  both  in  my  waking  and  my  sleeping 
dreams,  led  away  to  the  niche  in  the  wall,  or  to  the  private  cell 
of  the  Inquisition,  where  the  stake  is  always  fixed,  and  awaiting 
its  victims  1' 

I  fancied  that  he  was  slightly  delirious,  as  he  often  was,  but 
he  continued — '  Oh,  my  pure  and  angelic  wife !  my  beautiful 
children!  is  it  I  who  have  sold  you  to  the  destroyer?' 

These  expressions  suggested  the  idea  of  his  having  already 
been  drawn  into  some  engagement  with  the  priests ;  but  I  was 
far  from  suspecting  that  he  had  been  irrevocably  tampered  with 
by  them ;  although,  as  yet,  not  any  of  them  had  been  admitted 
to  an  interview  with  him,  so  far  as  I  knew.  But  this  was  not 
necessary  to  the  attainment  of  their  objects,  since  any  one  of 
the  medical  attendants  belonging  to  the  holy  church  was  ready 
to  do  their  bidding,  and  perform  for  the  priest,  by  proxy,  what 
he  could  not  perform  in  person,  till  the  dupe  was  moulded  to  his 
purpose.  As  for  myself,  I  was  but  an  outlaw  in  their  estima- 
tion, who  might  be  dealt  with  as  best  suited  their  policy. 

As  Fitzgerald  sank  into  silence,  I  seated  myself  by  his  bed- 
side, and  spoke  to  him  qnietly  of  that  invisible  future  from 
which  none  of  us  could  escape,  whether  prepared  for  it  or  not ; 
and  begged  him  if  there  was  any  desire  in  his  heart  to  consult  a 
spiritual  adviser,  that  he  would  allow  me  to  call  in  some  clerical 
man  of  exemplary  piety,  to  whom  he  might  unbosom  himself. 

After  listening  attentively  to  my  remarks  for  at  least  a  minute 
or  two,  he  earnestly  fixed  his  eyes  on  me,  saying :  '  Helen,  you 
really  think  the  soul  valuable,  do  you?  How  much  do  you  sup- 
pose it  to  be  worth  ?' 

'  Oh !  more  than  a  world.  No  earthly  good  can  be  put  in 
competition  with  it. 

4  Suppose  then,'  he  replied,  '  it  were  necessary,  in  order  to 
buy  my  soul  out  of  purgatory,  to  bestow  my  estates,  and  all  I 


140  HE  LEX    MCLGRAVE  ;    OR, 

have  in  the  world,  on  the  church,  regardless  of  any  provision 
for  my  children  or  yourself — would  you  consent  to  such  a  sacri- 
fice ?  Is  my  soul  of  sufficient  value  in  your  eyes  to  enable  you 
to  acquiesce  in  the  requirements  of  the  church  ?' 

1  If,'  I  replied,  '  the  price  you  propose  could  indeed  purchase 
the  salvation  of  your  soul,  it  would  be  my  most  sacred  duty  to 
suffer  cheerfully  the  loss  of  every  earthly  possession,  for  such  an 
object,  not  counting  the  cost  to  myself  or  our  children.  But 
the  soul  is  not  redeemed  with  '  corruptible  things,  such  as 
silver  and  gold.'  All  the  wealth  of  the  world  would  be  inade- 
quate to  the  purchase.  The  precious  blood  of  Christ  has  been 
already  shed  for  the  redemption  of  it,  and  there  is  now  '  no 
more  sacrifice  for  sin.'  What  is  required  of  us  is,  to  repent  and 
believe ;  and  without  this,  even  the  divine  atonement  will  have 
been  made  in  vain  for  us.' 

'  You  are  an  excellent  casuist,  Helen,'  said  Fitzgerald.  '  You 
ought  to  have  been  a  priest  yourself.  But  do  not  attempt  to 
speak  again  to  me  on  the  awful  subject  you  have  chosen  for  a 
theme.  Hush !  There  are  footsteps.  Oh,  how  quickened  is 
my  hearing  to  the  tread  of  a  priest!' 

I  started  as  the  door  opened,  to  see,  indeed,  a  priest  enter. 
My  doomed  husband  became  frantic  at  sight  of  him,  and  after 
successive  execrations  and  screams,  fainted. 

The  Jesuit  measured  me  with  his  eye,  as  my  husband  lay 
before  me  in  a  state  of  insensibility,  from  which  I  vainly  endea- 
voured to  recover  him.  It  was  a  relief  to  me  to  see  the  doctors 
enter  at  this  moment. 

I  remained  until  Fitzgerald  returned  to  consciousness,  and 
was  then  requested  by  him,  in  a  whisper,  to  withdraw. 

I  was  greatly  surprised  at  what  I  had  witnessed,  and  still 
more  at  my  husband's  request ;  but  entreating  him  to  be  calm,  I 
quitted  the  room,  with  an  apprehensiveness  which  I  had  never 
before  felt  on  leaving  him.  The  sudden  appearance  of  the 
priest  in  the  sick  chamber,  and  his  extraordinary  reception 
there,  I  could  in  no  way  understand. 

Inquiring  of  my  servants  how  the  Jesuit  gained  admittance,  I 
was  informed  that  he  had  asked  for  Mr.  Fitzgerald,  and  desired 
the  servant  to  conduct  him  to  his  presence,  with  an  air  of  con- 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  141 

fidence  which  induced  him  to  suppose  that  he  had  come  by 
appointment,  and  in  this  way  made  good  his  entrance,  the 
doctors  shortly  following  him. 

Having  received  this  information,  I  returned  to  the  anti- 
chamber  of  the  sick  room,  hovering  about  the  locked  door  of  it, 
without  being  able  to  enter,  for  nearly  an  hour.  Distrusting  the 
object  of  the  priest,  whose  presence,  at  any  rate,  I  knew  to  be 
offensive  to  the  suffering  patient,  I  one  moment  felt  disposed  to 
assemble  my  servants,  and  make  my  way  into  his  room  by  force ; 
but  the  recollection  that  he  himself  had  requested  me  to  retire 
from  it,  checked  my  purpose,  and  compelled  me  to  restrain  my 
indignation. 

Every  time  I  attempted  to  enter,  I  was  prevented  from  doing 
so  by  one  of  the  doctors  coming  to  the  door,  and  telling  me  that 
the  patient  was  engaged  with  his  confessor. 

For  a  short  time  I  heard  only  an  occasional  murmur  of  voices. 
but  suddenly  Fitzgerald's  tones  became  so  loud  as  to  rise  to  the 
height  of  violent  anger  or  delirium. 

My  knocks  at  the  door  were  now  unnoticed.  At  length  a 
loud  scream  reached  me,  followed  by  a  violent  ringing  of  the 
bell.  The  valet  appeared  instantly  and  passed,  by  the  priest's 
order,  at  once  into  the  room.  The  door  of  it  had  now  been 
thrown  open  by  the  Jesuit  priest,  and  he  stood  in  the  gap,  to 
prevent  my  entrance,  with  a  serious  placid  face. 

'  Madam,'  said  he,  in  a  gentle,  touching  voice ;  '  the  duties  of 
the  confessional  are  painful,  both  to  the  confessor  and  the  con- 
fessed. But  I  trust  that  I  have  been  able  to  pour  balm  into  the 
diseased  mind,  and  to  enlighten  the  dark  "  valley  of  the  shadow 
of  death,"  to  the  traveller  destined  so  soon  to  pass  through  it.' 

Unable  to  listen  any  longer  to  him,  I  motioned  him  aside,  by 
an  impatient  gesture,  and  rushed  past  him  to  the  bedside  of  my 
husband,  to  behold  him  extended  lifeless  in  a  pool  of  blood. 

Horrified  at  the  sight,  I  involuntarily  screamed,  and  unable  to 
speak,  pointed  to  the  corpse  that  lay  before  me,- and  turning  to 
one  of  the  doctors  with  a  look  of  inquiry,  he  replied  to  me  by 
saying — '  The  excitement  of  the  patient's  feelings,  when  in  con- 
fession, was  so  great  as  to  cause  the  rupture  of  a  material  blood- 
vessel in  the  chest.  You  see  the  sad  consequences.  But  we 


142  HELEN  MULGKAVB;  OR, 

have  examined  him,  and  find  that  there  still  is  life,  and  wo  trust 
that  he  may  be  recovered  to  consciousness.  Meanwhile,  allow 
me  to  entreat  you,  madam,  to  spare  yourself  the  pain  of  behold- 
ing him  in  his  present  state.  We  have  rung  for  the  nurse,  who 
will  doubtless  be  here  in  an  instant,  when  remedial  measures 
will  be  tried  for  his  recovery;  and  you  will,  I  trust,  if  you  will 
leave  him  to  our  care,  shortly  see  him  restored  to  you.' 

I  did  not,  however,  leave  the  room,  for  suspicions  of  a  terrific 
character  had  taken  possession  of  me.  The  Jesuit  disappeared 
while  I  was  speaking  to  the  doctors,  under  the  influence,  as  they 
afterwards  told  me,  of  sudden  indisposition. 

As  the  hemorrhage  had  for  the  present  subsided,  the  nurse 
and  the  valet  were  able  to  perform  their  functions  effectually, 
under  the  direction  of  the  doctors,  who  soon  left  the  patient 
entirely  to -their  care. 

I  watched  over  him  a  long  time  in  utter  hopelessness,  although 
his  breathing  was  still  perceptible.  The  one  or  the  other  of  the 
doctors  came  every  hour  during  the  day  to  inquire  into  his  pro- 
gress. As  midnight  approached,  and  there  was  nothing  to  be 
done  in  the  sick  room,  I  dismissed  the  nurse  to  an  adjoining 
chamber  for  rest,  while  the  doctor  retired  to  another. 
•  During  the  night  the  patient  slept  too  soundly,  and  alarmed 
me  by  the  depth  of  his  respiration ;  but  very  soon  awaking,  he 
fixed  his  eyes  on  me  with  a  look  indicating  consciousness,  but 
also  deep  despair.  He  motioned  me  to  stoop  my  ear  to  his 
mouth.  I  did  so,  while  in  a  whispered  articulation,  he  said : — 
'  Helen,  my  good,  my  excellent  wife  !  But  I  cannot  talk.  You 
will,  I  fear,  at  first,  be  entirely  without  money ;  go  to  my  desk, 
the  key  is  yonder  in  my  waistcoat  pocket.  You  will  find  a 
purse  in  the  desk,  embroidered  and  tasselled  with  jewels,  it  is 
full  of  gold,  secure  it.  I  will  not  offend  your  purity  by  telling 
you  for  whom  it  was  originally  designed. 

'May  God  forgive  me  this,  and  all  my  other  innumerable 
sins!' 

'  Amen  1'  I  exclaimed,  as  I  knelt  by  him. 

He  ceased  speaking,  and  lay  an  hour  without  movement,  and 
then  began  to  speak  again  in  the  same  low  indistinct  whisper. 

'  Helen,'  he  said,  '  they  wanted  me  to  sign  away  your  right 


JESUIT    EXECUTOKSHIP.  143 

ore;-  cnir  boy,  and  the  whole  of  the  property.  All,  all,  they 
•wanted,  to  atone  for  what  they  called  the  unpardonable  sin  of 
my  having  sanctioned  your  secession  from  the  church.  They 
forced  the  pen  into  my  hand,  which  they  wanted  to  guide,  but 
I  resisted — yes,  effectually ;  but  the  violence  of  my  resistance 
produced  the  hemorrhage.' 

He  then  sank  into  silence  for  about  half  an  hour,  when  I 
again  perceived  his  lips  moving.  *  You,'  he  said,  'my  pure,  my 
faithful  wife,  they  called  a  heretic  and  an  outlaw.  But  I  did 
not  sign,  neither  did  I  confess  to  the  Jesuit.' 

'  Were  you  not  then  in  confession  with  him,'  I  asked,  '  when 
I  was  refused  admittance  to  you  ?' 

'  No,  no ;  he  shall  never  bring  me  to  that.  But,  oh,  Helen,  in 
his  rage,  he  cursed  me  in  the  name  of  the  Holy  Trinity  I  I  am 
lost — lost  for  ever !' 

As  he  said  this,  he  fainted.  I  administered  a  cordial  medicine, 
he  again  revived,  and  shortly  after  fell  asleep. 

Within  an  hour  of  daybreak,  he  awoke  in  a  paroxysm  of 
weakness  and  terror,  that  touched  me  to  the  very  soul.  1 1  am 
dying,'  said  he,  '  oh  Helen,  send  for  a  priest,  and  give  me  the 
last  sacraments  I' 

I  inquired  whom  I  should  send  for ;  he  mentioned  the  village 
priest,  a  harmless  man,  who  was  not  long  in  arriving  with  an 
assistant  priest,  who  accompanied  him. 

As  they  entered  the  room,  bearing  the  host,  I  perceived  by 
the  dim  lamp  light  which  pervaded  it,  that  the  features  of  the 
accompanying  priest  were  hidden  by  a  black  hood.  His  figure 
was  bent  like  that  of  an  aged  man,  and  as  I  thought  him  a 
stranger  to  me,  I  took  no  further  notice  of  him. 

They  both  approached  the  sufierer,  and  I,  softly  pressing  the 
hand  of  my  husband,  to  indicate  to  him  that  I  was  retiring, 
withdrew  to  an  adjoining  room,  to  supplicate  in  silence  for  the 
departing  spirit. 

In  about  an  hour  the  chamber  door  opened,  and  as  I  appeared 
before  it,  the  village  priest  beckoned  me  to  enter. 

The  glazed  eyes  of  Fitzgerald,  who  was  evidently  in  the  last 
agony,  were  fixed  upon  the  crucifix  which  was  held  before  him 
by  the  priest. 


144  HELEN  MULGRAVE;  OR, 

As  I  approached  to  take  his  hand,  his  eye  wandered  to  my 
face,  and  rested  there.  Suddenly,  an  expression  and  movement 
of  the  most  frantic  agony  distorted  his  features — he  raised  him- 
self up,  with  a  cry  of  piercing  distress,  and  fell  back  lifeless ! 

The  assistant  priest,  who  had  been  bending  over  him,  now 
stood  erect  by  the  bedside,  with  his  hood  thrown  back,  and  as  I 
casually  glanced  at  hhn,  I  encountered  the  fixed  gaze  of  the 
4  placid'  Jesuit. 

*The  deplorable  manner  of  my  husband's  death,  evidently 
accelerated  by  that  priestly  power  he  had  so  earnestly  depre- 
cated, shook  me  fearfully.  I  could  not  escape  from  the  terror 
of  his  last  look,  and  the  wild  shriek  that  accompanied  it,  except 
to  follow  the  departed  spirit  to  that  world  in  which  the  illusions 
of  time  are  exchanged  for  the  realities  of  eternity ! 

The  solemn  mockery  of  that  mystic  cross  on  which  the  sins 
of  the  world  were  once  expiated,  as  exhibited  in  ivory  miniature 
to  the  sightless  eye  of  death,  contributed  to  the  horrors  of 
retrospection,  and  caused  me  to  deplore  the  facility  with  which 
I  had  yielded  to  the  command  of  my  husband  to  '  leave  him 
with  the  priests.'  I  now  reproached  myself  bitterly  for  having 
ever  left  him  with  them.  But  it  was  too  late  for  regret,  and 
tears  were  unavailing. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Ox  the  24th  of  May,  1824,  while  the  funeral  obsequies  were 
being  performed,  and  the  remains  of  Mr.  Fitzgerald  consigned  to 
the  silent  vault  where  his  ancestors  lay,  I  gathered  my  five  chil- 
dren round  me  in  my  own  room.  As  I  viewed  their  sweet  but 
helpless  infant  forms,  the  eldest  not  having  attained  her  sixth 
year,  and  felt  that  I  was  now  then*  sole  dependence  on  earth,  I 
could  not  but  be  alive  to  the  solemnity  of  the  charge.  But 
reflection  told  me  there  were  thousands  of  widowed  mothers  in 
the  world,  on  whom  such  a  charge  must  fall  still  more  heavily 
than  on  me.  In  losing  my  husband  I  had  not  lost  a  companion 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  145 

or  an  adviser — I  had  been  accustomed  to  live  even  without  hig 
sympathy,  or  any  of  those  tender  cares  which  form  part  of  the 
dues  of  a  wife.  But  the  father  of  a  family,  even  under  the  most 
negative  aspects  of  his  character,  is  still  a  heavy  loss,  where  his 
children  are  young,  and  incapable  of  acting  for  themselves ;  and 
the  widowed  mother,  if  not  secured  by  legal  provision  in  the 
possession  of  her  accustomed  competency,  becomes,  from  the 
moment  of  her  husband's  death,  an  alien  not  only  from  comfort, 
but  from  family  connexions,  and  is  at  once  obliterated  from  her 
former  circle  in  society. 

I  had  every  reason  in  my  own  case  to  suppose  that  I  was  left 
in  full  power  to  protect  my  children,  and  sustain  with  them  my 
own  position  in  life ;  and  although  I  could  not  but  be  aware  that 
the  personal  property  of  Fitzgerald"  might  be  swallowed  up  in 
payment  of  his  accumulated  personal  debts,  I  believed  his 
estates  to  be  free  from  encumbrance.  The  ignorance  in  which  I 
had  always  been  kept  of  his  pecuniary  affairs  had  never 
appeared  to  me  as  an  evil,  but  now  I  perceived  for  the  first  time 
the  inconvenience  and  danger  of  it.  Accustomed  from  my 
childhood  to  receive,  without  toil  or  thought,  a  continuous  sup- 
ply of  every  want,  it  was  not  until  within  a  few  months  that  I 
had  discerned,  even  partially,  the  value  of  money.  It  had 
always  been  to  me  like  a  weed  of  earth,  ever  springing  up  and 
within  reach  whenever  my  hand  chose  to  gather  it. 

Recent  experience  had  somewhat  disturbed  this  security,  and 
laden  me  with  a  new  care.  Still  I  was  very  far  from  estimating 
the  importance  of  that  all  pervading  ingredient  of  the  social 
structure,  without  which,  as  society  is  at  present  constitflted,  the 
whole  machinery  of  life  falls  to  pieces ;  and  money  is,  no  doubt 
on  that  account,  often  mistaken  for  the  supreme  good. 

On  the  return  of  the  funeral  party,  I  was  summoned,  in  the 
name  of  the  Jesuit,  to  attend  the  reading  of  my  '  late  husband's 
will.' 

As  I  knew  no  more  of  any  will  than  what  I  have  already 
related  to  my  reader,  I  was  struck  with  surprise  and  inexpressi- 
ble apprehension  by  this  message,  but  I  instantly  obeyed  the 
summons,  and  joined  the  assembled  auditors  in  an  adjoining 
drawiug-room.  It  did  not  occupy  many  minutes  to  apprize  me, 

7 


14C  HELEN    MCLGRAVB  ;    OR, 

that  the  whole  of  our  family  property  was  placed  in  the  hands 
of  the  two  priests  who  attended  my  husband  in  Ins  last  moments, 
and  who  now  assumed  the  office  of  whole  and  sole  executors  to 
liis  will.  Everything  was  left  at  their  disposal,  except  the  landed 
property  inherited  by  my  son,  to  whom  they  were  appointed 
sole  guardians  during  his  minority,  as  well  as  trustees  to  his 
estates. 

Not  the  slightest  mention  of  myself,  except  in  speaking  of  my 
jointure,  or  of  my  four  girls,  or  of  any  provision  for  their  sub- 
sistence, had  been  made  in  any  part  of  this  extraordinary  docu- 
ment. 

Several  of  my  husband's  distant  relatives  were  present,  who 
had  a  right  to  expect  some  recognition  in  snch  a  deed.  But  it 
was  unusually  succinct  where  it  should  have  been  diffuse,  and 
the  powers  of  the  executors  were  so  ostentatiously  stated  as  to 
fill  its  pages,  and  leave  those  who  ought  to  have  been  more 
interested  ii?  it  without  any  part  to  perform,  but  that  of  silently 
listening  to  its  provisions. 

All  authority  had  been  vested  in  the  two  priests,  but  how  it 
had  been  done,  and  by  whom,  none  would  now  ever  know,  until 
the  day  when  the  secrets  of  all  human  life  shall  be  revealed. 

Unable  to  sustain  in  the  presence  of  others  the  shock  which 
the  reading  of  this  document  had  inflicted  on  me,  I  was  assisted 
out  of  the  room,  and  left,  at  my  own  earnest  request,  alone,  to 
endure  as  I  best  might  that  view  of  the  future  which  now 
forced  itself  on  my  unprepared  mind.  The  disrespect  to  myself 
implied  in  the  conditions  of  the  will,  and  in  the  choice  of  its 
executors,  was  only  a  secondary  consideration  to  me.  Those 
prophetic  words  of  the  departed,  '  You  will  fall  into  the  grasp 
of  the  priests,'  uttered  in  such  seeming  agony,  were  already  ful- 
filled by  the  provisions  of  his  own  will.  "When  I  had  taken  a 
review  of  all  that  had  so  recently  passed  on  this  subject,  while 
my  husband  lay  on  the  bed  of  death,  and  now  beheld  the  result, 
it  was  impossible  to  believe  otherwise,  than  that  some  deep  arti- 
fices had  been  employed  to  produce  it.  And  discerning,  as  I 
could  not  fail  to  do,  the  state  of  pecuniary  embarrassment  in 
which  I  might  be  placed  by  being  left  entirely  dependent  on  the 
will  of  the  executors,  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  was  inextricably  in 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSHIP.  147 

the  toils  of  that  priestly  power  so  dreaded  by  the  deceased,  and 
which,  consistently  with  itself,  could  not  fail  to  persecute  me  to 
the  latest  moment  of  my  life. 

My  darling  boy,  as  heir  to  the  patrimonial  estates,  would  of 
course  be  suitably  provided  for ;  but  for  my  four  infant  daugh- 
ters, I  should  be  dependant  on  the  Jesuit-executor  for  whatever 
he  might  deign  to  award  me  for  their  use. 

Of  him  I  speak  as  though  the  whole  testamentary  power  were 
comprised  in  him ;  the  parish  priest'being  a  mere  man  of  straw, 
probably  associated  with  the  Jesuit  only  to  divide  with  him 
whatever  odium  might  arise  from  the  exercise  of  the  extraordi- 
nary powers  delegated  to  them  jointly. 

While  occupied  in  these  reflections,  I  recollected  the  jewelled 
purse,  which  Fitzgerald,  when  giving  it  to  me,  had  desired  me 
instantly  to  secure,  but  which,  in  the  momentous  occurrences 
which  immediately  succeeded  this  injunction,  had  entirely 
escaped  my  memory.  It -was.  not,  perhaps,  yet  too  late,  and  I 
went  at  once  to  get  the  key  of  the  desk,  and  to  obtain  possession 
of  this  valuable  gift.  Valuable  indeed  it  would  have  been  to  me 
at  that  moment,  as  I  was  then  almost  without  money. 

I  found  the  key,  and  hastened  to  the  library,  where  the  desk 
•was  always  kept,  only  to  learn  that  I  had  no  power  to  open  it ! 
It  was  already  under  the  executor's  seal.  I  stood  like  one  petri- 
fied, so  filled  with  self-reproach  for  my  neglect,  and  so  lost  to 
Everything  around  me,  that  I  did  not  observe  there  was  another 
person  in  the  room,  until  the  fall  of  a  book  caused  me  to  turn 
my  head. 

As  I  did  so,  the  face  of  the  Jesuit  presented  itself,  and  his  eyes 
met  mine,  with  an  expression  that  neutralized  the  softness  of  his 
placid  smite. 

I  appealed  to  him  at  once  respecting  the  desk,  which  I  said  I 
meant  to  appropriate,  as  containing  my  husband's  private 
pape'rs,  and,  therefore,  belonging  exclusively  to  myself.  He 
replied,  with  an  air  of  authority,  that  such  an  appropriation 
could  not  be  admitted,  as  the  executors  would  require  posses-  ion 
of  all  manuscripts  left  by  the  deceased,  in  aid  of  their  official 
duties. 

'  At  any  rate,'  said  I,  '  there  is  an  article  in  the  desk  which 


148  HELEN    MULOKAVE  ;    OB, 

was  given  me  by  my  husband,  but  a  short  time  before  his  death, 
and  which  I  have  allowed  to  remain  there  until  this  moment.  I 
had,  indeed,  forgotten  it;  but  as  it  is  not  a  manuscript,  it  cau- 
not  be  wanted  for  the  purpose  you  have  mentioned.' 

The  Jesuit  then  inquired  the  nature  of  it ;  and,  when  inform- 
ed, remarked  that  an  article  of  that  kind  was  so  essentially  a 
part  of  the  personals  of  the  estate,  that  it  would  be  impossible 
for  the  executors  to  relinquish  their  right  to  dispose  of  it. 

I  must  have  betrayed  extraordinary  emotion  as  this  decision 
was  pronounced,  for  the  Jesuit  stepped  hastily  towards  me, 
with  extended  arms,  as  if  he  would  have  saved  me  from  falling. 
He  stopped  short,  however,  as  I  waved  him  off  with  my  h.uid. 

'  I  am  sorry,  madam,'  said  he,  '  to  oppose  your  wishes,  at  my 
very  entrance  on  the  painful  duties  I  have  allowed  myself  to 
assume,  at  the  earnest  request  of  a  dying  man.  But,  how  much 
soever  I  might  be  disposed  to  place  myself  under  your  guidance, 
I  could  not,  as  one  only  of  the  executors,  comply  with  your 
wishes  on  the  point  in  question,  without  the  aid  of  my  coad- 
jutor, especially  as  I  know  what  the  duty  of  the  case  must 
be.' 

'  Father  Renel,'  said  I,  with  some  warmth,  '  you  allude  to  the 
testamentary  duties  you  have  arrogated,  as  though  you  had 
assumed  them  from  compassion  to  the  dying.  Pray  let  me 
implore  the  extension  of  that  sentiment  to  the  living,  by  allow- 
ing me  the  perusal  and  examination  of  a  document  so  important 
to  myself  and  family  as  my  husband's  will.' 

The  Jesuit  quietly  replied,  '  If,  madam,  you  had  been  a  party 
to  your  husband's  will,  I  could  not  have  refused  your  request ; 
as  you  are  not,  you  must  not  take  it  amiss  that  I  decline  to 
expose  it  to  your  cavils.' 

He  then  bowed  low,  with  an  air  of  solemn  mockery,  and  mov- 
ing slowly,  left  the  room. 

As  the  door  closed  after  him  I  was  again  alone,  and  at  liberty 
to  resume  my  gloomy  forebodings.  The  gauntlet  had  now  cer- 
tainly been  thrown  down ;  and  hostilities  actually  commenced 
between  the  Jesuit  and  me.  Had  I  done  right  in  yielding  to  the 
impetuous  feelings  inspired  by  the  wrongs  inflicted  on  me  ?  To 
what  purpose  would  be  my  resistance  to  a  power  above  law, 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIi'.  149 

above  conscience,  above  public  opinion,  except  to  destroy 
myself  and  family  ? 

Far  better  would  it  be  for  me  meekly  to  sit  down  under  evils 
so  irremediable,  than  to  resist  them.  But  my  children — how 
should  I  answer  it  hereafter  to  them,  if  I  suffered  all  their  rights 
to  be  forfeited  without  a  single  effort  to  redeem  them.  '  I  will 
write  at  once,'  said  I,  '  to  my  uncle,  Sir  Felix ;  he  is  a  lawyer, 
and  he,  I  am  sure,  will  help  me.' 

I  wrote  to  him  under  this  impulse  without  the  loss  of  an 
hour. 

Meanwhile,  I  endeavoured  to  make  an  estimate  of  my  pecu- 
niary resources,  or  rather,  what  I  supposed  them  to  be,  inde- 
pendently of  the  will, 

The  annual  income  arising  from  my  jointure  I  'had  always 
understood  as  amounting,  jointly  with  my  uncle's  settlement,  to 
five  hundred  pounds.  A  miserable  pittance,  certainly,  for  five 
persons !  I  attempted  in  vain,  by  calculation,  to  apply  it  so  as 
to  cover  our  wants. 

Another  difficulty  arose  in  regard  to  my  jointure,  viz.,  my 
ignorance  of  the  manner  in  which  it  had  been  secured  to  me. 

During  my  married  life  I  had  never  heard  the  subject  men- 
tioned, nor  did  I  know  where  to  apply  for  its  periodical  pay- 
ments. But  as  it  had  been  alluded  to  in  the  will,  it  was  of 
course  secure ;  and  our  man  of  business  would  be  able  to  fur- 
nish me  with  such  information  as  I  might  require  respecting  it. 

•By  the  reading  of  the  will,  my  comparatively  destitute  situa- 
tion had  become  known  to  the  funeral  guests.  They  were  so 
numerous  as  almost  to  fill  my  spacious  mansion ;  for  the  popu- 
larity of  my  husband  during  the  better  part  of  hia  life,  and  until 
very  lately,  had  been  unbounded  in  his  province.  These  now 
precipitately  departed,  like  persons  fleeing  from  a  falling  house. 

In  a  few  hours  I  was  alone.  My  position  on  that  day  formed 
an  epoch  in  my  life.  I  soon  found  myself  plunging  into  medita- 
tions which  were  maddening ;  and,  to  divert  the  course  of  my 
thoughts,  ran  wildly  about  my  deserted  house,  so  lately  filled 
vfltii  friends,  to  search  for  some  one  who  might  have  remained 
behind.  But  I  gazed  on  desolation.  The  whole  fabric  around 
me,  no  longer  sustained  by  the  golden  cement  that  had  hitherto 


160  HELEN    MULGRAVE  J    OR, 

held  it  together,  and  which  was  indispensable  to  its  existence, 
seemed  tumbling  to  pieces;  and  could  I  as  easily  have  run  a\v;iy 
from  it  as  iny  lute  friend*  had  done,  I  should  have  followed  their 
example  in  that  moment  of  despair.  In  endeavouring  to  lleo 
from  myself,  I  visited  chambers  and  recesses  in  every  part  oi' 
the  house,  some  of  which  I  had  never  seen  before.  The  ser- 
vants, acting  under  relaxed  authority,  were  moving  idly  about, 
or  lounging  at  every  turn.  They  retired  before  me,  frightened 
at  my  unexpected  appearance,  or  touched  by  my  visible  distrac- 
tion, while  I  continued  ray  perambulation  until  I  came  to  a 
small  room  near  to  my  own  apartments,  which  I  was  accustom- 
ed to  call  my  boudoir.  This  room  was  my  oratory — my  con- 
fessional, where  I  was  wont  to  pour  out  my  heart  to  God — my 
sanctuary,  in  which  I  vented  my  domestic  sorrows — my  read- 
ing-room, in  which  I  sometimes,  but  not  often,  wrapped  myself 
up  in  the  dreams  of  poets,  or  in  those  of  my  own  fancy,  and  to 
which  I  brought  my  children  occasionally,  that  I  might  have 
them  all  to  myself. 

The  door  of  my  boudoir,  as  I  reached  it,  was  ajar,  and  I  enter- 
ed it  abruptly  at  this  moment,  supposing  it  unoccupied,  to  seek 
for  peace  in  prayer. 

My  disordered  air  startled  a  venerable  form  which  I  found 
there,  reposing  in  an  arm  chair.  It  was  Father  Ossory.  I  had 
tl;..-n  .-it  last  found  one  friend,  whom  my  sudden  destitution  had 
not  dViven  from  my  walls. 

'  Pardon  me,'  said  he,  as  I  advanced  towards  him,  '  that  I  am 
so  slow  in  rising  to  apologize  to  you,  my  good  friend,  for  my 
being  in  an  apartment  which  I  know  is  sacred.  But  in  the  dis- 
traction occasioned  by  the  sudden  departure  of  your  guests,  I 
came  here  to  get  out  of  their  way,  until  I  could  take  leave  of 
you  after  they  were  gone.  I  will  now  retire  and  await  your 
leisure  in  another  room.' 

It  is  necessary  that  I  here  apprize  my  reader  that  Father 
Ossory  (for  I  have  never  called  him  by  any  other  name)  had  two 
years  since,  at  more  than  eighty  years  of  age,  publicly 
renounced  Romanism,  and^Jokied  the  Protestant  Episcopal 
Church.  Of  course,  he  had  lost  caste  by  this  renunciation,  and 
had  been  ejected  from  every  circle  in  which  he  had  formerly 


151 

moved.  But  he  had  counted  the  cost  beforehand  ;  and  although, 
•with  a  heart  still  capable  of  attachment,  he  could  not  but  feel 
such  a  wrench  from  the  associates  of  his  earlier  years,  yet  in  a 
cause  like  this  he  considered  whatever  he  had  lost  as  mere  dross, 
in  comparison  with  what  ho  had  gained.  His  income,  also,  was 
of  course  lost  to  him,  and  every  other  source  of  official  gain, 
and  he  had  since  lived  on  an  annuity  of  twenty  pounds,  which 
formed  all  the  property  he  now  possessed,  so  that  he  was  in 
poverty  as  well  as  in  isolation,  enduring  daily  that  species  of  per- 
secution which,  in  such  a  locality  as  his,  could  not  fail  to  pursue 
any  man  who  had  renounced  the  errors  of  the  Romish  Church. 
He  resided  in  a  very  small,  but  neat  cabin,  not  far  from  Reech 
Park,  and  had,  since  his  conversion,  been  a  frequent  visitor  to 
me,  and  a  friend  and  spiritual  adviser,  ever  ready  to  serve  me. 
The  meeting  him  at  this  moment,  now  the  only  friend  that 
remained  to  counsel  and  support  me  under  the  violent  shock  I 
had  received,  was  an  unspeakable  comfort  to  me. 

At  my  entreaty,  he  resumed  his  seat,  and  patiently  waited,  as 
he  had  sometimes  done  in  former  times,  until  my  bursting  heart 
had  relieved  itself  in  tears.  "When  I  was  capable  of  listening  to 
him,  he  opened  the  holy  book  which  lay  before  him,  and  in 
which,  previous  to  my  entrance,  he  had  been  marking  passages 
for  my  perusal ;  and  now  read  them  aloud,  page  after  page,  until 
he  had  drawn  my  thoughts  from  the  irritating  circumstances  of 
my  position,  and  enabled  me  to  resume  some  command  over  my 
feelings. 

'  Oh,  this  blessed  book,'  said  he,  as  he  closed  it.  '  Time  has 
been  when  I  knew  it  not,  and  when  I  withheld  it  from  you,  my 
young  friend.  What  would  you  now  do  without  it  ?  Forgive 
me  the  errors  of  my  former  advice,  and  my  more  than  erroneous 
attempts  at  instruction ;  I  can  never  forgive  myself.  At  some 
future  time,  if  it  please  God,  I  will  give  you  the  history  of  my 
mind  in  latter  years,  and  show  you  the  infinite  prize  I  have 
gained  in  a  knowledge  of  the  true  God.' 

As  I  began  to  weep  afresh,  he  said,  '  And  you,  my  friend,  are 
you  not  al^o  in  possesMon  of  the  same  treasure?  Even  your 
afflictions,  your  losses  at  this  time,  are  but  working  out  for  you 
that  future  happiness  for  which  you  hope,  and  for  which,  if  an 


152  HELEN  MULOKAVK;  OK, 

option  were  given  you,  you  would  willingly  suffer  the  loss  of  all 
things.  You  believe  in  God ;  believe  also  in  his  power  and 
mercy. 

'  The  clouds  that  hang  over  you  are  menacing,  but  he  can  dis- 
perse them ;  or  if,  for  your  benefit,  it  be  his  purpose  to  permit 
the  storm  to  fall  on  you,  he  will  sustain  you  jmder  it.  "  Only 
believe,"  says  our  blessed  Saviour ;  "  all  things  are  possible  to 
him  that  believeth."  Bear  this  great  truth  in  mind,  my  afflicted 
friend,  and  supplicate  for  faith,  as  the  principle  above  all  others 
that  unites  you  with  Omnipotence,  and  enables  you  to  overcome 
the  world.  I  now  leave  you  ;  but  I  am  within  call  whenever  I 
can  be  useful  to  you,  and  only  too  happy  to  be  allowed  to  serve 
you.' 

As  the  venerable  man  departed,  and  the  sacred  words  he  had 
uttered  still  rested  on  my  ear,  I  could  not  but  contemplate  with 
wonder  and  admiration  the  difference  betwixt  his  present  views 
and  those  of  former  times,  when  the  cabalistic  agency  of  '  the 
Virgin,'  formed  the  chief  theme  of  his  discourse,  and  aves  and 
beads  were  his  sole  medicine  for  a  mind  diseased. 


CHAPTER  XYI. 

"WniLB  awaiting  my  uncle  Sir  Felix's  reply  to  my  application 
to  him,  the  Jesuit,  one  morning,  about  a  week  after  the  funeral, 
sent  to  request  that  I  would  appoint  a  time  when  he  might  have 
an  interview  with  me,  on  important  business. 

I  replied,  that  I  was  at  leisure  to  receive  him  immediately ; 
and  when  I  had  learnt  that  he  was  coming,  I  sent  for  my  little 
son  to  be  with  me  during  his  stay. 

The  Jesuit  entered  my  room  with  an  air  of  seeming  depression, 
and  great  meekness  of  demeanour,  which  was  so  striking,  that  I 
began  to  think  I  had  misjudged  him. 

How  seductive,  how  omnipotent  is  manner !  He  who  can 
command  this,  is  in  possession  of  '  a  key  to  unlock  hearts.' 

The  humble  man  remained  standing,  even  after  I  had  begged 


JESUIT    EXECUTOR8HIP.  153 

him  to  sit.  He  opened  his  mission  with  a  suavity  of  look  and 
language  that  suggested  so  strongly  the  idea  of  benignity ,-as  to 
stagger,  and  almost  disarm  me. 

He  deplored,  in  choice  and  flattering  terms,  that  perversity  of 
fate,  which  in  his  intercourse  with  me  restricted  him  to  speak 
only  on  one  subject,  which  he  feared  might  be  painful  to  me. 

In  the  course  of  his  official  duties  as  executor  to  the  will,  he 
said,  he  found  it  necessary  to  inquire  into  the  amount  and 
sources  of  my  future  personal  income.  '  You  are  aware,'  said 
he,  '  that  there  is  no  provision  made  for  you  by  your  husband, 
in  addition  to  the  jointure  settled  on  you  at  your  marriage,  and 
I  am  sorry  to  inform  you,  that  the  property  (which  was  per- 
sonal) on  which  that  settlement  was  made,  has  in  great  part  dis- 
appeared. In  consequence  of  this,  your  original  income  is  now 
so  much  reduced  as  scarcely  to  amount  to  a  hundred  per  annum. 
Perhaps  you  have  been  some  time  aware  of  this  ?' 

I  could  make  no  reply,  for  the  shock  was  so  great  that  I  felt 
myself  fast  falling  into  utter  incapacity ;  but  the  hand  of  my 
child  was  in  mine,  and  the  comfort  of  that  little  hand,  at  that 
moment  enabled  me  to  retain  my  senses. 

The  Jesuit  had  paused  for  an  instant,  but  he  now  resumed  his 
discourse. 

'  Of  the  settlement  made  by  your  uncle,  I  have  a  still  worse 
account  to  give,  that  having  been  cancelled  by  the  donor  him- 
self, immediately  on  your  apostatizing  from  the  church  of  your 
fathers.  Mr.  Fitzgerald  was  not  a  man  of  strict  business  habits, 
I  find,  on  looking  into  his  affairs ;  and  having  omitted  to  see  that 
your  uncle  the  bishop  signed  the  deed  at  the  time  of  your  mar- 
riage, he  had  left  it  in  his  lordship's  power  to  cancel  it,  as  he 
had  afterwards  done,  and  for  the  reason  which  I  have  specified. 

'  The  landed  property,  you  will  be  happy,  madam,  to  learn,  is 
so  little  encumbered,  that  it  is  likely  to  produce  an  annual 
income  of  from  nine  to  ten  thousand  pounds.  Of  course,  this 
amount  will  not  be  required  for  the  use  of  your  son  at  present. 
It  will  therefore  be  set  aside — except  what  may  be  expended  in 
masses  for  the  soul  of  the  deceased — to  accumulate  until  your 
son  attain  his  majority.  Meantime,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  we  find 
pressing  debts  lying  against  the  estate,  which  require  to  be  paid 

7* 


154  HELEN  MUUJRAVE;  OR, 

as  speedily  as  possibly.  There  is,  however,  no  personal  property 
in  existence.  It  has  all  been  spent  without  being  accounted  for, 
except  an  extensive  stud,  and  the  costly  collections  of  virtu,  pic- 
tures, works  of  art,  furniture,  plate,  and  other  valuables,  with 
•which  the  house  is  stocked,  and  which  may  possibly  cover  the 
debts  of  the  deceased,  if  well  sold.  To  accomplish  this,  it  will 
be  necessary  to  put  an  immediate  end  to  the  expenses  of  your 
extensive  establishment.  In  doing  this,  we  shall  be  under  the 
necessity  of  requesting  you  to  withdraw  with  your  family  to 
another  residence;  and  as  the  reduced  state  of  your  income, 
•without  any  other  consideration,  renders  such  a  step  necessary, 
you  will  perhaps,  madam,  not  be  disposed  to  regret  or  postpone 
the  change. 

'  The  debts  of  honour  incurred  by  the  deceased  at  the  gaming- 
table, and  which  have  already  been  presented  with  an  air  of 
demand,  as  though  they  could  legally  be  sustained,  we  have 
decided  on  repudiating.  I  trust,  madam,  your  sense  of  honour 
on  this  point  is  not  so  nice  as  to  require  us  to  revise  our  resolu- 
tion.' 

The  great  calamities  of  life,  like  the  thunderbolt  or  the  ava- 
lanche, provoke  no  resistance.  Their  mission  is  fulfilled,  and 
their  work  of  destruction  completed,  too  rapidly  to  admit  of 
reaction.  Even  when  the  first  shock  is  over,  and  consciousness 
breaks  upon  us  of  our  having  been,  as  it  were,  hurled  into 
another  planet,  or  thrown  to  the  mercy  of  an  element  opposed 
to  the  very  principles  of  our  existence,  we  attempt  not  to  extri- 
cate ourselves,  but  sink  quietly  down  into  ruin 

Such  were  my  feelings,  as  the  Jesuit  wound  up  his  narrative 
of  torture  with  words  of  mockery.  I  lifted  my  child  to  my 
arms,  and  pressed  him  to  my  cold  and  almost  lifeless  bosom ; 
while  his  soft  caresses,  and  the  entwining  of  his  little  arms 
around  me,  brought  tears  that  for  the  moment  saved  me,  and 
enabled  me  articulately  to  say,  '  I  presume,  Father  R6nel,  that 
your  business  with  me  is  ended ;  or  have  you  anything  further 
to  communicate  which  it  is  necessary  for  me  to  know  ?' 

'  You  are  right,  madam,'  said  the  Jesuit,  '  in  not  shrinking 
from  what  still  remains  to  be  told  to  you.  The  provisions  of  the 
will  do  not  permit  my  colleague  and  myself  to  interfere  at  all  in 


JESUIT   EXECDTORSHIP.  155 

your  pecuniary  arrangements  for  yourself  and  daughters.  I  can- 
not, therefore,  trouble  you  with  any  proposal  or  suggestion 
respecting  them.  '  But  as  it  is  a  part  of  our  official  duty  to  make 
some  immediate  provision  for  your  son,  we  propose,  if  you  are 
willing  to  take  charge  of  him  for  the  present,  to  place  him  with 
you,  and  to  allow  you  at  the  rate  of  twenty  pounds  per  annum 
for  him.  Will  this  satisfy  you,  madam  ?' 

Insulted  beyond  measure  at  the  manner  and  meaning  of  this 
proposal,  from  him  who  had  already  denuded  me  of  everything, 
uncler  pretence  of  executing  my  husband's  will,  I  could  find  no 
words  of  sufficient  import  to  reply  to  him ;  and  he  resumed  his 
discourse. 

'  You  will  not  long,'  said  he,  '  be  burdened  with  this  duty,  as 
it  was  not  the  will  of  the  testator  that  his  son  should  be  reared 
in  heresy.  "We  are  therefore  instructed  to  remove  him  from  you 
on  his  attaining  his  fifth  year,  and  to  place  him  in  some  Catholic 
college,  either  foreign  or  domestic,  in  which,  if  he  live,  he  may 
receive  a  training  adapted  to  his  future  position  in  life.' 

I  know  not  what  more  the  Jesuit  said.  I  remember  only  that, 
feeling  my  brain  as  it  were  on  fire,  I  darted  towards  the  handle 
of  a  bell  that  hung  near  me,  and  pulled  it  violently.  In  a 
moment  I  was-  in  the  arms  of  my  own  maid ;  and,  as  I  was 
afterwards  told,  in  a  delirium  that  continued  for  several 
hours. 

I  had  braced  myself  under  the  previous  inflictions  of  the 
Jesuit,  determined  not  to  give  way ;  but  when  the  climax  came, 
and  the  very  child  in  my  arms — my  own  child — was  rent  from 
me,  as  my  property  had  been,  by  his  sacrilegious  hand,  my  self- 
control  utterly  forsook  me. 

When  reason  returned,  I  found  several  letters  on  my  table,  in 
reply  to  some  which  I  had  written  when  I  first  became 
acquainted  with  the  tenor  of  the  will.  They  were,  in  general, 
tenderly  expressed,  for  I  had  addressed  only  those  persons  Avhorn 
I  supposed  to  be  real  friends.  But  they  all  declined  to  interfere 
in  my  affairs,  seeing  they  were  in  the  hands  of  the  Romish 
church.  Even  my  uncle,  Sir  Felix  Mulgrave,  my  father's  bro- 
ther, and  the  inheritor  of  his  estates,  though  a  barrister  of  high 
standing  in  London,  and  of  course  skilled  in  law,  recoiled  at  the 


156  HELEN    MULGRAVE  J    UK, 

idea  of  catechizing  a  Jesuit,  lest  he  might  bring  on  himself  the 
maledictions  of  his  church. 

As  I  was  scarcely  convalescent  when  I  attempted  the  perusal 
of  these  letters,  their  contents  threw  me  into  a  state  of  hopeless- 
ness and  helplessness  as  adverse  to  my  interests  as  to  my  peace 
of  mind.  Father  Ossory,  who  spent  some  part  of  every  day 
with  me,  by  constantly  speaking  of  the  lofty  themes  which  filled 
his  own  soul,  and  reminding  me  of  Hun  '  who  bore  our  griefs 
and  carried  our  sorrows,'  and  who  had  invited  the  '  heavy  laden ' 
to  cast  their  burdens  on  Him,  kept  me  alive  to  a  perception  of 
those  divine  realities,  and  thus  moderated  my  distress.  The  fre- 
quent contemplation  of  them  enabled  me  to  regain  that  confi- 
dence in  God,  of  which  an  excessive  worldly  care  was  defraud- 
ing my  soul,  and  perilling  even  its  salvation. 

I  became  resigned,  and  comparatively  tranquil.  It  was, 
indeed,  high  time  that  I  should  be  so,  for  the  new  duties  that 
awaited  me  were  every  day  accumulating. 

Bereft  as  I  was,  on  all  sides,  of  every  earthly  friend,  and  lite- 
rally alone  in  the  world,  with  a  family  of  children  dependent  on 
me  for  support,  and  possessing  only  a  beggarly  income  totally 
insufficient  to  their  wants,  I  felt  it  an  imperative  necessity  that  I 
should  make  a  last  effort  to  avert  or  diminish  the  wrongs  that 
had  been  perpetrated  on  me.  Of  the  possible  fruitlessness  of  my 
efforts  I  was  fully  aware ;  but,  borrowing  courage  from  despair, 
I  resolved  on  remonstrating  with  my  adversary,  not  only  on  the 
barbarity  of  his  robberies,  but  on  the  absence  of  all  precedent  in 
the  ordinary  conduct  of  executors  for  outrages  so  revolting  both 
to  justice  and  humanity. 

That  I  might  not  be  betrayed  into  any  expression  which  from 
its  strength  or  bitterness  should  injure  my  cause,  I  decided  on 
making  ray  appeal  by  letter.  Having  done  so,  I  awaited,  with  a 
throbbing  heart,  the  result. 

Four  days  elapsed  before  my  missive  was  acknowledged,,  when 
I  received  a  message  from  the  Jesuit,  saying  it  was  indispensable 
that  he  should  have  an  immediate  interview  with  me.  Of  course 
this  message  was  a  mandate. 

The  ignorance  in  which  women  are  left  of  all  business  matters, 
is  an  egregious  error  in  their  bringing  up ;  and  often  fatal  to 


JESUIT    EXECCTORSHIP.  157 

themselves  and  families,  when  left  in  widowhood.  Ignorant  as 
I  was  myself  of  these  things,  it  was  necessary  that  I  should 
endeavour  to  obtain  some  degree  of  information,  respecting  the 
amount  and  position  of  the  family  property,  that  I  might  be 
armed  for  the  coming  interview  with  the  Jesuit. 

To  this  end  I  sent  for  my  late  husband's  man  of  business,  Mr. 
Keogh. 

I  had  often  heard  Mr.  Fitzgerald  speak  of  him  as  an  acute  and 
diligent  man  of  business,  and  his  deportment  was  that  of  a 
respectful,  though,  perhaps,  too  obsequious,  adviser.  Know- 
ing how  thoroughly  he  was  acquainted  with  my  husband's 
*  aftairs,  I  determined  on  stating  my  whole  case  to  him. 

I  had  some  difficulty  in  obtaining  an  appointment  from  him. 
"When  he  at  last  appeared,  his  whole  demeanour  was  so  altered 
from  what  it  had  formerly  been,  that  I  was  on  the  point  of  dis- 
missing him  abruptly,  without  explanation. 

Ah !  how  much  I  had  then  to  learn  of  what  my  own  deport- 
ment and  views  should  be,  in  order  to  adapt  myself  to  my  new 
position  in  life ! 

"When  I  began  to  speak  to  Keogh  of  my  affairs,  instead  of  pay- 
ing that  defferential  attention  to  a  client's  voice  which  had  been 
usual  with  him,  his  eyes  wandered  about  my  apartment,  from 
one  object  to  another,  until  he  at  length  rose  from  his  seat,  while 
I  was  speaking  to  him,  to  handle  and  admire  a  monthly-rose 
tree,  that  was  blooming  in  one  of  its  windows. 

At  this  moment  I  ceased  speaking;  and  when  he  turned 
towards  me,  as  if  expecting  me  to  go  on,  I  said  to  him — '  Mr. 
-  Keogh,  you  do  not  seem  interested  in  my  affairs.' 

He  replied,  with  the  greatest  familiarity  and  nonchalance — 
k  Bless  you,  my  dear  lady,  I  am  always  interested  where  I  think 
I  can  be  of  use ;  but  I  fear  your  case  is  one  in  which  I  cannot 
act  to  any  purpose  ;  especially  as  Father  R6nel,  one  of  your  late 
husband's  executors,  has  desired  me  to  reserve  myself  for  him ; 
and  having  put  a  handsome  fee  into  my  hand,  you  see  I  could 
not  so  well  act  for  you,  unless  you  could,  as  I  may  say,  buy  him 
out. 

'  I  speak  plainly,  dear  lady,  as  I  really  Avish  you  well ;  and  I 
do  not  forget  how  many  years  I  acted  for  Mr.  Fitzgerald,  who 


158  HELEN  MULGKAVE;  OR, 

was  a  generous  client  to  me  while  he  lived.  It  is  unfortunate 
for  your  interests,  ina'am,  that  by  turning  Protestant  you  have 
placed  yourself  in  hostility  with  the  church.' 

After  a  few  more  words  of  strained  civility,  he  abruptly  took 
leave ;  and  thus  ended  all  ray  hopes  of  assistance  from  him. 

I  had  now  only  to  receive  the  Jesuit,  and  to  cast  myself  on  the 
chances  of  another  interview  with  him. 

Father  Renel,  as  he  entered  my  room,  exhibited  striking  proofs 
that  his  toilet  had  been  more  than  usually  attended  to.  It 
•would,  nevertheless,  have  been  lost  on  me,  had  not  his  air  and 
manner  assumed  so  new  a  character  as  to  arrest  my  attention. 
His  fine  person  and  commanding  features,  not  now  disfigured  by 
the  visible  assumption  of  an  artificial  humility,  which  they 
ordinarily  bore,  suggested  the  idea  of  his  appearing  in  a  new 
guise. 

He  looked  grave,  and  would  have  looked  benevolent,  but  that 
a  countenance  with  a  Jtfephistophiles  cast  in  it,  aims  in  vain  at 
this  expression. 

Completely  broken  down,  and  suffering  under  every  species 
of  humiliation,  I  nevertheless  felt  my  pulses  quicken  and  my 
indignation  kindle  at  sight  of  him. 

As  he  seated  himself,  he  fixed  his  eyes,  the  expression  of 
•which  changed  every  moment,  both  on  me  and  the  child  in  my 
lap,  so  as  to  revolt  and  appall  me,  and  cause  me  to  cling  to  my 
infant  for  support. 

After  sitting  a  few  seconds  in  silence,  he  bent  his  head 
towards  me,  and  in  a  low,  deep  tone,  inquired  if  we  were  alone. 

'  Certainly,  Father  Kenel ;  but  if  you  are  in  want  of  anything, 
I  am  near  the  bell,  and  can  ring  it  without  rising?' 

'  I  want  nothing,  madam,  but  yourself — no  ear  but  your  own 
— and  what  I  am  about  to  say  to  you  requires  not  only  your 
closest,  but  your  most  dispassionate  attention. 

This  exordium  was  so  extraordinary,  that  as  the  Jesuit  uttered 
it,  I  was  thankful  that  I  had  placed  my  maid,  who  would  fly  to 
me  at  the  first  touch  of  the  bell,  in  an  adjoining  room. 

The  Jesuit  proceeded — '  I  regret,  madam,  with  poignant  feel- 
ings, the  pain  which,  from  the  tenor  of  the  letter  I  have 
received  from  you,  I  must  have  inflicted  on  you  in  a  recent 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSH1P.  159 

interview,  by  too  abrupt  a  disclosure  of  the  barbarous  require- 
ments of  a  will,  which  I  have,  unfortunately  for  myself,  under- 
taken to  execute.  But  courageous  and  admirable  as  I  had 
always  found  you,  I ' 

'  Pardon  me,  father,'  said  I,  hastily  and  imprudently  interrupt- 
ing him,  '  I  cannot  allow  myself  to  receive  compliments  from 
you,  neither  can  I  listen  to  reproaches  aimed  at  the  dead.  The 
will  in  question,  though  attributed  to  my  husband,  I  have  the 
strongest  reason  for  believing  was  neither  dictated  nor  consented 
to  by  him.' 

I  threw  out  this  observation  at  random,  on  the  faith  of  what 
my  husband  had  said  with  his  dying  breath,  and,  though  fright- 
ened at  my  own  temerity,  hoped  it  might  strike.  But  the  priest 
heard  it  without  allowing  a  muscle  of  hifl  face  to  be  moved, 
merely  saying — '  I  am  unpractised  in  bandying  either  compli- 
ments or  reproaches,  madam.  But  had  I  not  supposed  you 
superior  to  the  ordinary  weakness  of  your  sex,  I  might  have 
been  more  cautious,  though  I  dared  not  have  been  less  frank,  in 
my  official  statements.  It  must  be  remembered,  too,  that  there 
are  duties  so  absorbing  as  to  preclude  foresight,  and  dangers  so 
appalling  as  only  to  be  averted  by  fearlessness.  But  I  must  not 
forget  that  my  object  in  coming  here  is  primarily  to  reply  to 
your  letter. 

'  You  express  yourself,  madam,  as  aggrieved  by  the  conditions 
of  your  husband's  will,  for  which,  of  course,  I  cannot  be  respon- 
sible. You  should  distinguish  betwixt  the  will,  and  the  execu- 
tors of  it ;  instead  of  which,  you  direct  your  reproaches  and 
resentments  against  me,  as  though  I  were  acting  alone,  in  execu- 
tion of  a  document  which  I  had  myself  dictated.  There  are, 
however,  conditions  annexed  to  the  fulfilment  of  your  husband's 
will,  of  which  it  is  time  I  should  apprize  you,  as  they  in  some 
measure  change  the  character  of  it,  by  placing  in  your  own 
hands  an  optional  power,  capable  of  annulling  its  whole  pro- 
visions. 

'  Your  husband  well  knew,  for  he  was  a  true  son  of  the 
church,  the  powers  of  that  church,  and,  in  making  his  will, 
invested  his  executors  with  a  discretionary  power,  which,  under 
the  church's  sanction,  is  to  be  used  for  yonr  benefit. 


160  HELEN    Ml'LOKAVE  \    OR, 

'  Thus,  an  invisible,  but  an  all-powerful  hand,  that  can  restore 
to  you  all  which  you  deplore  as  lost,  waits  to  be  gracious  to  you. 
Your  vanished  wealth,  your  lost  position,  your  numerous 
friends,  your  beloved  children,  are  all  placed  within  your  reach, 
by  the  fulfilment  of  a  single  condition.' 

I  raised  my  eyes  to  the  face  of  the  speaker,  doubting  if  I 
heard  aright.  He  saw  my  surprised  and  sceptical  look,  and 
replied  to  it. 

'  Yes,  incredulous  you  may  well  be,  of  so  much  mercy,  where 
none  could  have  been  expected.  In  apostatizing  from  the  holy 
church,  you  forgot  the  God  of  your  fathers,  and  he  has  now  for- 
gotten you.  You  have  set  yourself  adrift  on  the  ocean  of  a  Pro- 
testant heresy,  and  its  waves  are  bearing  you  to  speedy  destruc- 
tion. Disunited  from  the  visible  communion  of  the  church  on 
earth,  you  are  consequently  disunited  from  the  invisible  commu- 
nion of  the  Holy  Mother,  and  from  that  of  the  saints  and  angels 
in  heaven,  and  from  God  himself. 

'  Does  no  touch  of  pity  for  yourself  agitate  your  heart,  as  the 
foaming  billows  roll  over  you  ?  Or,  madly  and  falsely  heroic, 
are  you*  determined  on  spiritual  suicide  ?  Helen  Mulgrave  ! 
"What  magic  still  lingers  round  that  name,  and  even  now  awakes 
enthusiasm  !  Child  of  the  holy  Catholic  church !  endowed,  even 
to  prodigality,  with  talent,  with  beauty,  with  grace,  and  attrac- 
tions of  every  kind,  to  render  you  worthy  of  the  name  you  bore, 
and  of  the  glorious  church  which  developed  stich  powers,  and 
which  is  still  willing  to  call  you  her  own,  and  re-purchase  for 
you  an  inheritance  amongst  the  great  and  the  mighty,  both  in 
earth  and  heaven. ' 

I  was  about  to  impugn  flattery  so  insulting,  and  to  break  up 
the  conference,  but  the  Jesuit  continued,  with  a  vehemence 
which  seemed  determined  to  sweep  everything  before  it, — '  I 
implore  you  to  stay  your  course — to  pause — to  kneel — and  to 
confess  your  sins!  Authorized  to  act  as  your  deliverer  and 
confessor,  I  should  listen  to  the  outpourings  of  your  heart  with 
a  depth  of  sympathy  that  would  divide  with  you  your  guilt. 
You  have  a  confession*!!  in  this  house.  Appoint  a  time  when  I 
may  meet  yon  there,  and  see  jou  assume  again  the  transforming 
duty  of  that  sacred  place.  Bestow  this  one  boon  on  yourself 


JKSU1T   EXECUTOKSHfp.  161 

and  me,  whose  duty  it  is  to  attempt  all  things,  and  endure  all 
things,  in  bringing  back  such  a  wanderer  from  the  church's  fold, 
to  place  her  once  more  within  its  saving  pale.' 

Father  Renel  here  ceased  speaking. 

The  mystery  of  rny  persecution  was  now  unveiled.  Why 
inquire  further,  ? 

It  was  not  Father  Renel  who  was  my  adversary  :  it  was  the 
Romish  church  itself,  whose  inquisitorial  powers,  neither 
deterred  by  my  insignificance,  nor  revolted  by  the  odium  of  its 
task,  had  stooped  to  take  cognizance  of  a  female  in  private  life, 
and  direct  a  siege  of  extermination  against  her,  solely  for  having 
dared  to  renounce  Popery,  and  embrace  Protestantism !  This 
was  the  sum  total  of  her  offence,  and  in  wreaking  its  vengeance 
on  her  for  that  offence,  the  Komish  church,  calling  itself  Chris- 
tian, would  compass  sea  and  land  to  force  her  back  to  its  autho- 
rity, or  otherwise  accomplish  her  destruction. 

As  the  Jesuit  paused,  looking  intensely  but  artificially  earnest, 
as  though  he  had  staked  everything  on  a  single  throw,  I  turned 
from  his  scrutinizing  gaze,  to  arrange  my  thoughts,  and  muster 
courage  for  the  reply  he  awaited. 

God  and  mammon  had  been  distinctly  placed  before  me  in  the 
balance.  Hence  my  course  became  happily  clear,  although  a 
prescience  of  the  fearful  future  rose  like  a  gaunt  monster  to  my 
imagination,  showing  up  the  appalling  destitution  to  which  I 
was  consigning  myself,  and  those  dearer  to  me  than  life.  I 
tried  my  voice  several  times  before  I  was  able,  audibly,  to  say — • 
1  Father  Renel,  I  will  not  affect  to  misunderstand  you,  nor  will 
I  sarcastically  thank  the  church  for  its  parental  solicitude  on  my 
behalf.  The  purpose  of  your  mission  is  too  obvious  to  be  mis- 
taken. You  would  restore  to  me  the  whole  property  of  which 
you  have  robbed  me,  on  a  single  condition — namely,  that  I 
should  meet  you  in  the  confessional  of  the  Romish  church,  and 
there  renounce  that  Protestant  faith  which  I  have  deliberately 
embraced  on  conviction.  Is  it  not  so  ?' 

He  bent  his  head,  saying,  '  For  argument's  sake,  I  admit  your 
statement.' 

'  You  are,  then,  the  avowed  master  of  my  fate !  I  attempt 
not,  at  tliis  moment,  to  penetrate  the  mystery  which  has  made 


1G2  IlELUN    ML'LOKAVK;    OH, 

you  so.  I  am  aware  that  your  vocation  exempts  you  from 
-Utility,  in  whatever  you  may  dare  to  attempt  in  the  ser- 
vice of  your  church,  and  that  you  hold  yourself  accountable 
neither  to  God  nor  man,  but  only  to  the  hierarchy  you  serve.  1 
do  not,  therefore,  suspect  you  of  personal  malice  to  me  or  mine 
in  what  you  have  done,  and  are  still  doing,  for  the  destruction 
of  my  devoted  family.  I  only  recognise  in  it  a  practical  illustra- 
tion of  the  spirit  and  morals  of  the  Romish  church,  and  the 
principles  on  which  it  is  founded. 

'But  I  did  not  renounce  Popery  without  consideration;  nei- 
ther did  I  adopt  Protestantism  without  examination.  I  am, 
therefore,  by  God's  mercy,  steadfast  in  adhering  to  it,  and  total- 
ly unprepared  to  accept  your  "  thirty  pieces  of  silver,"  for  a 
betrayal  of  that  faith  on  which  I  found  my  hopes  of  everlasting 
life. 

'  Yon  are  a  man  of  understanding,  Father  R6nel,  and  will  not 
infer  from  this  that  I  am  insensible  to  the  value  of  that  wealth 
of  which  I  have  been  despoiled. 

'  Reared  in  the  lap  of  luxury,  and  ignorant  of  the  expedients 
of  want,  I  am  bewildered  and  lost,  as  I  contemplate  the  dreary 
waste  to  which  you  are  consigning  me ;  and,  without  faith  in 
God,  I  should,  perhaps,  when  I  look  at  my  children,  be  tempt- 
ed, in  view  of  it,  to  barter  everything  for  the  retention  of  what 
you  are  taking  from  me.  But  when  the  inspired  volume  which 
the  Romish  church  withholds,  and  the  God  whom  that  volume 
reveals,  are  to  be  exchanged  for  Popery,  the  boon  you  offer  for 
this  sacrifice  becomes  "  unrighteous  mammon,"  and  is,  in  com- 
parison, less  to  me  than  "  a  drop  of  the  bucket,"  or  "  the  small 
dust  of  the  balance."  ' 

As  I  ceased  speaking,  the  Jesuit  quickly  rose,  and,  crossing 
the  room  to  obtain  his  hat,  stood  with  it  in  his  hand  before  me. 

'  Madam,'  said  he,  '  I  take  my  leave ;  for  although,  as  one 
•who  is  devoted  to  the  welfare  of  your  soul,  I  could  linger  ever 
here,  and  kneel  but  to  kiss  the  hem  of  your  garment,  your  impen- 
itency  makes  it  my  duty  to  withhold  any  further  remonstrance 
or  exhortation.  If,  on  reflection,  you  should  relent,  remember 
that  nothing  short  of  the  cleansing  power  of  the  confessional 
could  restore  you  to- the  good  offices  of  the  church,  or  reinstate 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSHIP.  163 

you  in  your  relations  with  it.  The  ecclesiastical  sentence  thcit 
hangs  over  you  is  yet  un pronounced ;  but,  whenever  it  may  fall 
on  your  devoted  head,  it  will  sink  you  in  endless  perdition.' 

These  words  of  doom  were  uttered  in  solemn  and  vengeful 
tones.  But  in  a  moment  the  placid  smile  returned,  and,  bow- 
ing low,  the  Jesuit  retired. 

I  will  not  conceal  from  the  reader  that  my  nerves  were  com- 
pletely shaken  by  this  last  menace  of  the  Jesuit.  The  truth,  or 
the  error,  which  we  are  taught  in  childhood,  is  long-abiding, 
and  savours  of  immortality.  The  grossest  delusions,  and  the 
most  irrational  opinions,  impressed  on  the  ductile  nature  of 
infancy,  sink  deep  into  it,  and  incorporate  themselves  with  its 
very  life. 

I  had  passed  through  years  of  reading  and  reasoning,  before 
I  felt  the  fetters  of  Popery  loose  their  grasp  on  my  imagination ; 
and  up  to  the  very  time  of  which  I  write,  the  mysterious  powers 
of  the  spiritual  world,  as  delegated  to  the  Romish  priesthood, 
and  exercised  by  them  on  their  dupes  and  victims,  would  still  in 
hours  of  sleep  or  weakness,  haunt  and  terrify  me. 

The  decision  which  I  had  just  expressed  to  the  Jesuit,  on  the 
base  barter  proposed  by  him,  although  perhaps  too  hastily  pro- 
nounced, I  could  not  regret,  even  on  reflection ;  and  in  full  view 
of  the  consequences  which  must  ensue  from  it,  I  could  but  cast 
myself  on  the  mercy  of  God. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

As  the  ejectment  from  Beech  Park  seemed  to  have  become 
inevitable,  in  conformity  with  the  will  of  the  destroyer,  I 
attempted  to  realize  and  prepare  myself  for  it. 

Yet  I  still  lingered  and  looked  back,  now  to  one  quarter,  and 
then  to  another,  for  '  help  against  the  mighty.'  But  in  scanning 
the  circle  of  my  near  relatives,  whom  death  had  spared,  (that 
once  happy  family,  on  which  formerly  the  sun  never  rose  but  to 


104  HELEN    ML'LURAVK  J    Oil, 

bless  them,)  I  could  not  find  one  of  whom  I  could  ask 
tance. 

My  dear  mother,  and  my  younger  sister  Caroline,  were  living 
with  my  uncle,  the  Baron  de  Wallenstein,  at  Vienna,  but  not  in 
circumstances  to  relieve  me  in  any  way ;  being  less  happy  in 
their  connexion  with  him  than  at  first,  owing  perhaps,  to  their 
almost  entire  dependence  on  him. 

The  property  that  had  been  left  to  them  by  my  late  uncle  the 
bishop,  had,  either  through  mismanagement  or  embezzlement, 
never  reached  them.  They  had  therefore  nothing  which  they 
could  call  their  own,  except  my  mother's  small  hereditary 
income,  which  was  scarcely  sufficient  to  defray  their  personal 
expenses,  in  the  high  society  with  which  they  mingled  in  the 
baron's  house. 

My  sister  Dora  was  far  too  distant  for  regular  correspondence, 
and  therefore  knew  but  little  of  my  position  since  my  marriage. 
She  bad  long  been  married  to  Sir  Lucius  Mac  Neil,  whom  she 
had  been  instrumental  in  converting  from  Romanism ;  and  who 
had  accepted,  several  years  since,  a  government  appointment  in 
India,  notwithstanding  his  ample  estates  at  home. 

My  uncle,  Sir  Felix  Mulgrave,  my  father's  successor  to  his 
estates,  had  found  them  so  fearfully  encumbered,  as  to  make  it 
difficult  for  him  to  raise,  by  mortgage,  sufficient  funds  to  support 
his  own  extensive  establishment  in  London. 

There  was  then  nothing  to  hope  for  from  any  quarter,  if  I 
except  my  uncle  De  Carryfort,  a  man  of  fortune,  without  wife 
or  family,  residing  in  Paris ;  but  with  whom  I  had  never  had 
any  intercourse. 

The  relations  of  my  husband  had  been  for  some  time  before 
his  death  alienated  from  him ;  and  when  they  became  acquain- 
ted with  his  will,  and  learnt  the  position  in  which  he  had  placed 
his  wife,  they  doubtless  made  it  a  pretext  to  themselves  for 
cutting  a  connexion  which  it  was  easy  to  foresee  might  become 
burdensome  to  them. 

Staggered  by  the  weight  of  care  and  terror  that  fell  on  mo  at 
this  period,  and  confused  in  all  my  perceptions,  I  could  scarcely 
discern  right  from  wrong.  I  arraigned  every  action  of  my  life, 
to  find  some  cause  in  myself  for  the  chastisements  that  had 


JKSUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  165 

fallen  on  me,  and  reproached  myself  for  what  I  had  hitherto 
deemed  blameless. 

My  passed  charities  appeared  to  me  but  ostentation, — my  self- 
denial  but  the  pride  of  endurance — my  humility  but  meanness 
— my  patience  but  obtuseness — and  even  my  adoration  of  the 
Supreme,  but  the  natural  homage  of  taste,  for  the  sublime  and 
the  good ! 

All  the  established  maxims  of  truth  and  reason  were  called  in 
question,  and  the  opinions  and  cherished  sentiments  of  happier 
days  cast  from  me  as  illusions. 

My  habits  of  acting  alone  remained,  to  guide  me  through  the 
labyrinth  of  sorrows  in  which  I  was  lost. 

I  had  not  yet  decided  on  a  place  to  retire  to,  on  quitting 
Beech  Park ;  but  my  lagging  purpose  was  quicke%ned  by  the 
receipt  of  a  note  from  the  executors,  expressing  impatience  at 
my  delay,  and  requiring  me,  unless  I  was  determined  to  continue 
the  occupation  of  the  Park,  to  remove  from  it  as  speedily  as 
possible. 

They  added,  that  they  had  come  to  the  determination,  not- 
withstanding the  diminution  it  might  cause  in  the  proceeds  of 
the  sale,  to  allow  me  to  select  such  articles  of  furniture  from  my 
present  residence  as  might  be  indispensable  to  me  in  my  future 
dwelling,  provided  I  confined  the  selection  to  things  of  inferior 
value. 

I  had  thought  my  spirit  sufficiently  broken  to  receive  any 
further  stroke  from  the  Jesuit  without  emotion ;  but  I  found,  on 
perusing  this  note,  that  I  was  still  alive  to  insult.  I  failed  not, 
however,  to  obey  its  injunction  at  once,  by  hiring  a  small 
cottage,  not  many  miles  distant  from  the  park,  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  town  of . 

Alas !  how  bewildered,  how  undefinable  were  my  feelings,  as 
I  wandered,  on  sufferance,  through  my  own  house,  for  the 
purpose  of  collecting  a  few  necessary  pieces  of  furniture,  to 
place  in  my  cottage  ;  and,  although  I  had  forborne — I  fear  from 
pride — to  take  more  than  bare  necessaries,  and  those  the  most 
inferior  I  could  find,  they  were  still  unsuitable  to  the  lowly 
dwelling  to  which  they  were  consigned 

In  spite  of  the  impatience  of  the  Jesuit,  I  lingered  in  the 


106  HELEN    MULGRAVE  ;    OR, 

/• 

house,  which  had  for  seven  years  been  my  home,  and  the  birth- 
place of  my  children,  until  within  a  few  days  of  the  public  sale. 
Time  moves  with  rapid  wing,  when  he  conducts  us  to  the  com- 
mencement of  a  new  era,  on  which  we  dread  to  enter. 

Some  days  previous  to  the  day  of  departure,  I  dismissed  all 
my  servants  except  Mary,  who  had  accompanied  me  when  I 
quitted  my  father's  house. 

She  had  continued  in  the  capacity  of  my  own  maid,  and  had 
been  an  humble,  silent  participator  in  all  my  sufferings.  She 
was  now  become  my  friend  and  consoler,  attending  me  step  by 
step,  through  the  dark  valley  of  humiliation,  and  alleviating  by 
sympathy,  and  may  I  not  also  say  by  companionship,  feelings 
that  might  otherwise  have  destroyed  me. 

I  did  little  else,  the  last  week  of  our  stay  in  the  house,  but 
rove  about  the  gardens  and  grounds,  or  wander  from  room  to 
room,  gazing  on  the  familiar  though  unconscious  things  that 
surrounded  me,  and  apostrophizing  them  as  though  they  had 
possessed  intelligence.  I  knew  not  that  to  part  with  inani- 
mate things  could  inflict  such  an  excess  of  pain. 

My  mind  had  so  long  been  braced  to  an  unnatural  degree'  of 
tension,  by  the  successive  efforts  of  fortitude  which  I  had  been 
compelled  to  make,  that  now,  when  all  was  over,  and  nothing 
more  remained  to  be  done,  I  sank  into  a  sort  of  childish  weak- 
ness, and  wept  incessantly.  I  should,  perhaps,  have  lost  my 
reason  as  well  as  as  my  fortitude,  had  not  my  younger  child,  my 
darling  of  a  year  old,  shown  symptoms  of  indisposition,  that 
drew  me  in  some  degree  out  of  myself.  Yet  even  on  an  occa- 
sion like  this,  my  sensibility  was  no  longer  what  it  had  been—- 
an incentive  to  exertion.  On  the  contrary,  one  fit  of  crying 
succeeded  another,  until  I  became  helpless,  and  without  any 
recollection  of  what  was  necessary  to  be  done. 

Mary  was  now,  in  point  of  fact,  the  mistress,  as  well  as  the 
servant  of  the  house.  But  for  her,  the  hours  had  passed  away 
without  anything  to  mark  their  flight.  I  saw  that  the  meals 
appeared  as  usual,  but  I  knew  not  whence  they  came,  and 
thought  not  of  inquiring.  On  the  last  evening,  as  I  passed 
through  the  spacious  but  disordered  hall,  and  saw  corded 
trunks,  children's  toys,  and  other  things  which  had  been  placed 


JESUIT   EXECUTORBHIP.  167 

there  to  be  in  readiness  for  departure,  and  observed  there,  at 
the  same  time,  Rover,  my  father's  dog,  passing  from  one  object 
to  another,  with  an  occasional  moan,  as  though  he  understood 
and  participated  in  the  distress  of  the  occasion,  I  lost  all  self- 
control.  So  many  thoughts  of  the  past  were  awakened — so 
many  deplored  occurrences  revived,  by  their  association  with 
Rover,  that  as  they  rushed  on  my  recollection,  I  sank  under  a 
paroxysm  of  feeling  that  threatened  my  very  existence. 

Forgetful  of  everything,  I  observed  not  that  Mary  was  sitting 
the  whole  night  by  my  bedside,  nor  did  I  once  recollect  the 
fatigue  she  had  gone  through  in  the  day,  and  the  consequent 
want  of  rest. 

The  night  was  one  continued  struggle  betwixt  life  and  death. 
The  visions  of  early  life  passed  before  me — the  fleeting  joys  of 
youth  and  ignorance,  the  never-to-be-forgotten  separation  from 
my  parents  and  my  home,  and  all  the  afflicting  events  that  had 
succeeded  this  beginning  of  sorrows. 

When  the  day  dawned,  I  thought  that  never  had  the  sun  shed 
its  beams  on  a  more  heart-stricken  wretch.  Mary  was  alarmed 
at  my  symptoms,  and  sent  very  early  in  the  morning  for  Father 
Ossory. 

His  benignant  countenance,  beaming  with  the  holiest  affec- 
tions, spoke  peace  to  my  soul,  as  he  solemnly  and  devoutly  pro- 
nounced the  word,  on  entering  my  chamber.  I  poured  out  my 
heart  to  him  in  self-accusation ;  and  he  reminded  me  of  Him 
who  was  '  wounded  for  our  transgressions' — who  was  '  bruised 
for  our  iniquities,'  and  '  with  whose  stripes  we  are  healed.'  '  A 
man  of  sorrows  and  acquainted  with  grief,'  '  who  bore  our  griefs 
and  carried  our  sorrows.'  '  He  was  oppressed  and  he  was 
afflicted — he  opened  not  his  mouth.'  '  Yet  it  pleased  the  Lord 
'to  bruise  him.'  'My  child,'  said  he,  "the  Lord  hath  called  tliee, 
as  a  woman  forsaken  and  grieved  in  spirit,"  and  He  says  to  thee, 
"  for  a  small  moment  have  I  forsaken  thee,  but  with  great  mer- 
cies will  I  gather  thee."  u  Fight,  therefore,  the  good  fight  of 
faith" — "  lay  hold  on  eternal  life,  whereunto  thou  art  also  called, 
nnd  hast  prosessed  a  good  profession,  before  many  witnesses." 
"  If  thou  faint  in  the  day  of  adversity,  thy  strength  is  small." 
"  Thero  remaineth  a  rest  for  the  people  of  God.  Let  ns  labour 


168  HELEN  MULGRAVE;  OR, 

therefore  to  enter  into  that  rest." '  Then  blessing  me  in  tlio 
name  of  a  compassionate  Saviour,  I  was  enabled  to  cast  myself 
upon  this  all-sufficient  source  of  strength  and  consolation. 

No  wonder  that  religion,  which  so  greatly  extends  the  sphere 
of  the  mind,  in  showing  us  our  relations  with  God,  should  have 
so  great  power  over  us  in  the  day  of  trouble,  or  that  earthly 
cares  should  melt  away  in  its  presence.  Thoughts  of  eternity 
inspire  contempt  for  the  arrogant  assumptions  of  time,  which 
would  claim  for  its  sands  of  an  hour  an  importance  commensu- 
rate with  endless  duration. 

The  murmurs  of  my  spirit  were  soon  hushed  in  listening  to 
the  divine  words  pronounced  by  Father  Ossory ;  and  observing 
that  I  had  become  tranquil,  he  left  the  room,  that  I  might 
obtain  rest. 

Mary  closed  my  curtains,  and  I  enjoyed  an  hour  of  forgetful- 
ness.  When  I  awoke,  I  felt  willing  to  submit  to  the  will  of 
God,  and  to  acknowledge  the  right  of  divine  arbitration  in  all 
my  affairs. 

It  was  well  that  I  was  thus  prepared  for  the  further  chastise- 
ments that  awaited  me. 

What  I  had  hitherto  suffered  was  but  a  foretaste  of  sorrow. 
The  depths  were  still  untried ;  I  had  not  yet  plunged  into  the 
'  deep  mire,  where  there  was  no  standing,  and  where  the  floods 
ran  over  me.' 

Mary  and  I,  early  in  the  afternoon,  accompanied  by  my  chil- 
dren, mounted  a  rustic  vehicle,  which  had  been  provided  for 
carrying  us  to  our  new  abode. 

But  before  setting  out  on  our  journey,  I  desired  that  we  might 
be  driven  round  the  great  park ;  not  only  that  I  might  behold 
for  the  last  time  the  beautiful  and  magnificent  trees  there,  then 
in  full  foliage,  but  that  my  elder  children  might  receive  a  strong 
impression  of  the  place,  once  their  home,  and  in  after  years 
learn,  from  the  loss  of  it,  the  fleeting  nature  of  all  earthly  pos- 
sessions, and  the  despotic  oower  of  a  Jesuit  priest. 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSHIP.  169 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

WE  arrived  at  our  little  cottage  about  four  in  the  afternoon. 
It  was  a  two-story  building,  consisting,  on  tbe  ground  floor,  of 
two  small  parlours  and  a  kitchen,  and  over  these,  three  decent 
bed-rooms.  There  was  a  little  flower-garden  in  front  of  the 
house,  and  another,  of  a  larger  size,  at  the  back.  The  site  of 
the  house  was  somewhat  raised  above  the  level  of  a  public  road, 
that  ran  along  at  a  short  distance  from  it  in  front. 

The  cottage  was  sheltered  from  a  view  of  the  road  by  a  row 
of  fine  chestnut-trees,  in  full  foliage,  when  I. now  saw  them  for 
the  first  time ;  and  through  their  opening  boughs,  as  I  looked  at 
them  from  a  window,  I  discerned  in  the  distance  a  range  of  lofty 
hills,  on  whose  green  sides  sunbeams  and  shadows  were  sporting 
with  each  other.  I  was  touched  by  the  scene  before  me,  for 
nature  is  always  charming;  but  recollecting  the  much  we  had 
to  do  before  we  could  compose  ourselves  for  the  night,  I  turned 
to  the  interior  of  the  cottage.  It  had  already,  by  Mary's 
orders,  been  made  delicately  clean,  but  there  were  arrangements 
to  make  of  our  scanty  furniture,  which  Mary  and  I  accomplish- 
ed in  a  few  hours,  and  then  retired  to  rest. 

The  sleeplessness  of  the  preceding  night  had  well  prepared,  us 
to  forget,  at  least  for  a  few  hours,  the  change  in  our  accommo- 
dations. 

I  awoke  early  in  the  morning  from  an  uneasy  sleep,  and  found 
my  youngest  child,  my  little  darling,  who  lay  by  my  side,  in  a 
high  fever.  All  my  skill  in  curative  remedies  was  immediately 
exerted,  but  the  want  of  our  accustomed  comforts  had  thrown 
us  all,  more  or  less,  into  a  state  of  indisposition. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  describe  the  violent  contrast  betwixt 
Beech  Park  and  the  comparative  hovel  in  which  we  now  found 
ourselves.  I  saw  my  good  Mary's  countenance  pale  and  agi- 
tated, as  she  presented  herself  at  my  bedside  the  next  morning, 
and  observed  that  she  wept  whenever  she  thought  herself  nnno- 


170  HELEN  MCLORAVE;  OR, 

tioed.  My  own  oourago  rose,  as  looking  round  on  my  children, 
I  felt  them  to  be  dearer  to  me  than  ever,  and  hoped  that  we 
had  reached  the  climax  of  our  misfortunes.  But  Mary's  too 
visible  struggle  affected  me,  and  I  felt  that,  should  I  lose  her, 
nothing  could  replace  her.  Both  she  and  I  in  a  few  hours  wero 
absorbed  in  one  object. 

My  little  one  grew  worse  and  worse,  until  an  eruption  appear- 
ed on  her  skin,  which  I  immediately  recognised  to  be  the 
measles.  It  was  on  every  account  a  most  inauspicious  moment 
for  such  a  visitation ;  and  as  the  next  younger  child  had  not  yet 
had  the  disorder,  she  also  would  probably  take  it,  and  might  be 
expected  every  day  to  sicken  with  it. 

Mary  soon  recovered  her  elasticity,  when  she  saw  her  services 
so  much  needed.  But  in  performing  the  duties  of  a  nurse,  how 
often  did  both  she  and  I  forget  ourselves,  and  look  around  in 
vain  for  the  alleviation  afforded  by  the  ordinary  comforts  of  a 
sick  room  1  Neither  sofa  nor  easy-chair  was  there,  to  form  a 
change  of  bed  for  my  child,  or  a  resting-place  for  myself;  nor 
had  I  a  curtain  to  defend  the  dear  infant's  head  at  night,  or  to 
screen  her  swollen  eyes  from  the  oppressive  light  of  day. 

I  might  have  brought  such  necessary  articles  with  me,  had  I 
foreseen  my  wants,  and  my  pride  had  allowed  me  to  do  so ;  but 
I  had  not  been  sufficiently  subdued  to  accept  as  a  gratuity  what 
I  considered  as  my  own  property. 

Unskilled  in  contrivances  suggested  by  want,  I  was  long  in 
learning  to  make  the  most  of  the  means  in  my  possession. 
Mary  was  a  far  better  manager ;  but  even  she  had  been  from  her 
youth  so  accustomed  to  the  plenty  of  an  affluent  establishment, 
that  neither  our  separate  nor  our  joint  contrivances  were  at  all 
equal  to  the  demands  made  on  our  ingenuity  by  the  want  of 
essential  things. 

For  two  or  three  days  after  the  appearance  of  the  eruption  on 
my  child,  there  were  no  symptoms  of  danger,  nor  had  I  the 
slightest  apprehension  of  the  disorder's  terminating  fatally, 
althqugh  I  was  fully  aware  how  unfavourable  to  the  safety  of  its 
progress  were  the  circumstances  I  have  mentioned. 

On  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day  I  first  observed  those 
symptoms  which  excited  my  alarm ;  before  the  termination  of 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSHIP.  1*71 

the  fifth  my  lovely  infant  was  a  corpse.     In  one  week  more,  my 
next  younger  child  was  taken  from  me,  in  the  same  disease. 

On  these  events  I  dare  not,  even  at  this  distance  of  time,  suf- 
fer myself  to  dwell.  Only  a  mother  who  has  hung  over  the 
sick  pillow  of  her  expiring  infant,  can  understand  the  amount  of 
agony  included  in  those  moments,  when,  watching  the  convul- 
sive respiration,  or  gazing  on  the  last  ray  of  expression  in  the 
glazed  eye,  impotent  to  relieve,  she  waits  for  the  sigh  that 
announces  all  is  over. 

I  saw  my  two  little  ones  laid  in  one  grave,  and  returned  from 
their  simple  obsequies  with  a  heart  dead  to  all  earthly  things. 

My  soul  refused  to  he  comforted,  and  the  oppression  on  it  was 
so  great  as  to  paralyze  my  faculties.  I  no  longer  contended 
with  fate,  or  struggled  with  my  despair — no  longer  reasoned,  no 
longer  wept.  The  fountain  of  my  tears — those  silent  interces- 
sors for  us  with  God — was  dried  up,  and  I  wilfully  tore  from  my 
heart  every  tender  affection  and  every  hope  of  happiness. 

The  sight  of  my  surviving  children,  and  their  frightened, 
inquiring  looks,  were  an  insufferable  annoyance  to  me.  They 
appeared  like  spectres,  with  hideous  features,  resembling  those 
phantoms  which  in  a  disordered  state  of  the  nerves  pass  before 
our  sight  in  the  darkness  of  the  night. 

Mary,  whose  tenderness  and  attentions  kept  pace  with  the 
increasing  bitterness  of  my  feelings,  was  equally  repugnant  to 
me,  and  in  a  few  days  a  delirious  fever  relieved  me  from  all 
sense  both  of  the  past  and  the  present. 

When  we  look  back  upon  our  conduct  in  such  moments  of 
trial,  we  ask  witli  surprise  and  humiliation,  what  had  become  of 
those  religious  principles,  of  which,  untried,  we  were  so  sure ;  or 
of  that  faith  in  God,  which  should  sustain  us,  under  every 
calamity  ? 

Man  is  so  seldom  thrown  upon  the  strength  of  his  principles, 
so  seldom  severed  from  the  adventitious  supports  that  surround 
him,  his  real  power  of  mind,  or  his  faith,  so  seldom  put  to  the 
test,  that  he  may  well  be  pardoned  for  overrating  it,  though  not 
for  condemning  those  who  have  failed  in  a  combat  which  he  has 
never  tried. 

I  quitted  the  sick  chamber  with  diminished  sensibilities.     The 


172  HELEN    MULORAVE  ;    OR, 

physical  languor  and  weakness  that  remained  with  me,  con- 
tinued to  relax  the  energies  of  my  mind,  and  complete  what  dis- 
ease had  begun — its  entire  subjugation  to  those  external  circum- 
stances, which,  in  the  plenitude  of  my  powers  and  my  posses- 
sions, I  might  have  vaunted  myself  of  being  able  to  control. 

Although  a  medical  friend  had  attended  both  my  children  and 
myself  without  accepting  a  fee,  the  expenses  of  our  illness,  and 
those  of  the  funeral,  amounted  to  an  alarming  sum  in  the  then 
state  of  my  finances.  While  these  events  were  taking  place  in 
my  cottage,  the  public  sale  at  Beech  Park  had  been  going  on. 
It  was  now  over,  and  the  proceeds,  it  was  said,  amounted  to  far 
more  than  had  been  expected. 

One  morning,  before  I  was  scarcely  convalescent  enough  to 
meet  strangers,  I  received  a  visit  from  two  of  my  late  husband's 
creditors,  who  formed  a  deputation  from  a  body  of  our  former 
tradespeople.  They  came  to  inform  me,  they  said,  that  they  had 
taken  the  liberty,  at  the  sale  of  my  furniture,  to  buy  for  me  a 
selected  lot  of  articles,  which  they  thought  adapted  to  be  useful 
to  me,  and  which  they  begged  to  present  a.s  an  offering  of  respect 
for  myself,  as  well  as  of  gratitude  for  favours  formerly  received 
from  Beech  Park.  Amongst  them  were  various  articles  of  plate, 
which  they  hoped  I  would  not  consider  as  superfluous. 

I  was  more  affected  than  I  wished  to  be  by  this  unexpected 
sympathy  and  .kindness,  from  a  quarter  in  which  I  might  least 
have  expected  to  find  it,  for  I  was  yet  unable  to  bear  emotion. 

Our  afflictions  have  done  much  for  us  when  they  have 
reduced  our  pride,  and  taught  us  lowliness  of  heart.  But  a  very 
short  time  since,  I  could  not  have  accepted  such  an  offering 
without  doing  violence  to  my  nature ;  but  now  I  was  able  to 
receive  it  with  feelings  of  gratitude  which  I  was  incapable  of 
expressing. 

When  my  bounteous  present  arrived,  Mary  and  I  found  that  it 
produced  a  delightful  addition  to  our  comforts,  as,  amongst  many 
other  things,  were  a  sofa  and  two  easy-chairs.  The  plate  was 
especially  welcome  to  me,  as  I  was  able  to  turn  it  immediately 
into  money,  and  thereby  discharge  those  debts  which  had  been 
incurred  by  my  illness. 

As  the  agitation  and  suffering  arising  from  our  new  position 


JESUIT    EXECUTOR8HIP.  173 

subsided,  and  grief  had  Settled  itself  into  a  sort  of  composure,  I 
began  to  breathe  more  freely,  and  to  look  around  me  with  a 
degree  of  fortitude,  which  I  had  not  expected  ever  to  feel  again. 
I  recollected  the  lonely  situation  of  Father  Ossory,  who,  in  visit- 
ing me  during  my  illness,  was  so  much  exhausted  every  time  he 
came  to  my  cottage,  by  the  walk  of  two  or  three  miles,  that  I 
became  very  desirous  of  bringing  him  nearer  to  us. 

After  Mary  and  I  had  consulted  together,  we  thought  that  we 
might,  without  any  material  inconvenience  to  ourselves,  offer 
him  an  asylum  in  our  little  cottage. 

The  addition  which  I  had  received  to  my  furniture,  enabled 
me  to  fit  up  a  room  for  him  in  tolerable  comfort. 

"When  the  invitation  was  given  to  him,  he  accepted  it  with  so 
much  gratitude  as  to  indicate  that  he  must  ha*e  suffered  greatly 
from  the  loneliness  and  want  of  comfort  in  his  own  cabin.  He 
came  to  us  without  loss  of  time.  Indeed,  if  he  had  lingered  we 
might  never  have  had  the  comfort  of  receiving  him  at  all,  as  he 
appeared  to  be  in  a  state  of  rapid  decline.  It  was  a  great  plea- 
sure to  me  to  entertain,  under  my  humble  roof,  my  father's 
friend,  and  one  so  long  an  inmate  of  our  house. 

On  his  arrival,  the  greetings  of  Rover,  and  the  fond  caresses 
of  the  children,  excited  him  so  much  that  I  was  obliged  to  put  a 
speedy  termination  to  them,  by  leadhig  him  to  the  quiet  of  his 
own  room,  in  which,  as  his  books  and  personals  were  already 
arranged,  he  found  himself  instantly  at  home. 

Mary  had  become  very  skilful,  though  the  occupation  was  new 
to  her,  in  small  cookeries,  and  proved  herself  so  good  a  nurse, 
that  in  about  ten  days  Father  Ossory  had  so  far  recovered  his 
strength  as  to  look  like  a  new  man,  and  feel  himself  able  to  take 
the  lead  in  our  family  worship.  I  never  ceased  to  be  thankful 
that  I  had  been  able  to  number  him  amongst  us. 

He  had  never  yet  made  me  acquainted  with  the  immediate  cir- 
cumstances that  had  led  him  to  a  formal  renunciation  of  the 
Catholic  faith ;  but  he  one  day  spontaneously  entered  upon  a 
relation  of  them. 

'  You  must,  I  think,'  said  he  to  me,  '  have  been  aware,  before 
my  functions  as  your  confessor  and  spiritual  adviser  ceased,  that 
I  had  become  doubtful,  on  many  points  on  which  it  had  been  my 
habit  to  be  dogmatical. 


174  HELEN   MLLUHAVK;  OK, 

'It  is  to  you,  my  young  friend,  that  I  owe  the  beginnings  of 
a  conversion  to  that  Protestant  truth  in  which  I  hope  to  rejoice 
through  all  eternity.  After  I  had  been  severed  from  your 
family,  by  distance  and  other  circumstances,  I  was  much  alone, 
and  had  great  leisure  for  reflection. 

'Examining  myself,  I  became  very  unhappy  and  di&satisfu-d, 
in  the  performance  of  my  accustomed  routine  of  religious  duty. 
I  was  as  one  that  moved  without  knowing  whither  my  path  led  ; 
and  every  step  I  took  seemed  upon  such  dubious  ground,  that 
what  I  rested  on  appeared  to  sink  from  under  me.  You  will 
doubtless  be  surprised,  when  I  tell  you  that  it  had  not,  at  any 
period  of  my  life,  been  my  practice  to  read  the  Scriptures. 

1  In  short,  I  was  scarcely  at  all  acquainted  with  them,  or  I 
think  it  would  net  have  been  possible  for  me  to  have  remained 
so  long  in  errors  so  flagrant  as  those  I  had  always  held.  It  was 
when  I  heard  you,  a  mere  child,  whose  intellect  was  but  in  its 
dawn,  speak  of  the  enlightening  power  of  the  Scriptures,  that 
my  sluggish  conscience  first  awoke  to  a  sense  of  my  guilty 
omisMon,  as  a  teacher  of  religion,  in  having  never  made  myself 
acquainted  with  them. 

'  Weighed  down  by  a  sense  of  the  sinfulness  of  this  omission, 
I  feared,  at  first,  that  I  had  thrown  away  the"  salvation  offered 
in  the  Gospel  to  him  who  believes.  I  began,  however,  to  study 
the  inspired  volume  in  good  earnest;  but  the  more  I  did  so,  the 
more  I  felt  myself  in  the  wrong,  and  the  less  able  was  I  to 
reconcile  it  with  the  Romish  commentaries  on  it,  or  with  the 
traditions,  assumptions,  and  doctrines  of  our  church. 

4 1  could  find  no  scriptural  ground  on  which  to  base  these 
things,  and  our  most  pious  and  erudite  writers  failed  to  prove  to 
me,  that  our  church  was  '  built  npon  the  foundation  of  the 
Apostles  and  Prophets.' 

'  I  will  not  weary  you  with  a  detail  of  my  first  steps  in  repen- 
tance and  faith,  or  relate  the  struggles  I  had  with  myself,  before 
I  could  determine  on  making  known  the  change  that  had  taken 
place  in  my  views.  I  was,  for  some  time,  short-sighted  enough 
to  suppose  that  I  mi^ht  bind  truth  to  my  heart,  and  yet  continue 
to  hold  the  office  of  a  Romish  priest.  I  saw  not,  that  by  retain- 
ing this  office,  I  should  be  continuing  to  teach,  and  to  uphold 
the  errors  of  Romanism  ;  and  that  to  do  so,  with  the  convic- 


JKSUIT    EXECUTOB8HIP.  175 

tions  I  had  of  their  nature  and  tendency,  would  be  a  perilous 
offence  against  God. 

'  It  happened,  at  length,  that  a  crisis  arrived,  which  impelled 
rue  to  a  decision. 

'  The  immediate  cause  of  this  was  an  occurrence  which  was, 
perhaps,  not  unusual,  but  its  character  was  new  to  me. 

'  A  man,  who  was  a  stranger,  applied  to  me  one  day  to  confess 
him.  I  felt  a  particular  reluctance  to  comply  with  his  require- 
ment, as  there  was  something  in  his  look  and  manner  so  indica- 
tive of  extreme  depravity,  that  I  was  afraid  of  learning  what 
I  might  afterwards  regret  to  know.  I  endeavoured  to  put  him 
off,  but  he  would  not  be  diverted  from  his  purpose,  and  I 
allowed  him  to  enter  the  confessional. 

'  I  there  learnt  from  him,  that,  aided  by  an  accomplice,  he 
had  engaged  to  take  the  life  of  an  individual,  whom  he  named. 

'  The  intended  victim  was  a  gentleman  whom  I  knew ;  and 
this  circumstance  heightened  the  shock  of  the  communication. 
I  remonstrated  with  the  man  on  the  heinousness  of  his  purpose, 
and  pressed  forcibly  on  him  the  danger  in  which  he  would  place 
his  soul  by  the  perpetration  of  it.  He  told  me,  it  was  to  avert 
such  a  consequence  that  he  had  confessed  his  intention  of  com- 
mitting the  deed,  and  that  he  had  brought  money  with  him  to 
buy  off  the  guilt  of  it — offering  me,  at  the  same  time,  a  hundred 
pounds.  The  affair,  he  said,  was  one  of  -hire,  and  not  of  per- 
sonal malice ;  and  he,  therefore,  thought  the  sum  he  offered  a 
very  handsome  one. 

'  Never  having  been  placed  in  similar  circumstances,  by  any 
confessing  party  before,  I  became  more  indignant  than  was 
compatible  with  the  perfect  self-possession  essential  to  my  office. 

'  I  replied,  that  as  a  being  amenable  to  God,  who  had  said, 
"  thou  shalt  not  kill,"  I  could  listen  to  nothing  further,  in  relation 
to  his  atrocious  purpose,  unless  he  would  enter  into  an  engage- 
ment to  relinquish  it. 

'  He  answered,  doggedly,  that  he  was  sworn  to  do  it,  and  he 
wt)uld  do  it;  but,  as  money  was  no  object  to  his  employer,  he 
would  double  the  amount  he  had  offered,  if  that  would  satisfy 
the  church. 

'  I  replied,  that  no  amount  could  induce  me  to  sanction  so 


176  HELEN    MULQRAVB  ;    OR, 

monstrous  a  purpose,  by  ra&king  it  a  matter  of  barter,  and  that 
I  would  liear  no  more  from  him.  He  forgot  himself  £pr  a 
moment,  and  became  so  violent,  both  in  language  and  demean- 
our, that  had  I  not  succeeded  in  overawing  him,  the  confessional 
might  have  been  desecrated  by  personal  outrage. 

'  We  parted  thus. 

'  As  the  nature  of  my  professional  vows  did  not  permit  me  to 
give  any  warning  to  the  doomed  victim,  I  was  obliged  to  lock 
up  the  corroding  secret  in  my  own  breast.  I  examined  every 
possible  evasion  of  my  vow,  but  could  find  none  that  would  not 
have  done  violence  to  my  conscience,  and  branded  me  with 
perjury  of  the  most  awful,  and  in  Catholic  verbiage,  of  the  most 
damning  kind. 

'  I  have  said  that  the  intended  victim  was  a  gentleman  of  my 
own  acquaintance.  I  was  one  day  sent  for,  hastily,  to  confess 
him.  Alas !  the  bloody  deed  had  been  accomplished.  I  found 
him  but  just  alive ! 

'  On  retiring  from  this  awful  duty,  I  was  so  filled  with  horror 
at  my  participation  in  the  atrocity,  by  my  omitting  to  warn  the 
victim,  that  I  fled  into  the  mountains,  away  from  every  human 
eye,  for  many  hours,  to  give  vent  to  my  agony. 

On  returning  home  I  was  seized  with  an  acute  disease  that 
scarcely  left  me  with  life.  During  my  illness,  my  mind  was 
emancipated  from  its  thraldom,  and  I  resolved  to  renounce  for 
ever,  before  God  and  man,  that  infallible  church  whose  laws 
compel  its  ministers  to  unholy  vows,  under  the  guise  of  faithful- 
ness to  the  confessional ;  and  whose  authorities  connive  at  the 
violation  of  every  moral  obligation,  as  expediency  or  its  own 
interests  may  dictate.' 

As  the  good  old  man  ceased  speaking,  he  sank  back  in  his 
chair,  and  remained  for  some  time  apparently  in  meditation. 
At  length,  he  exclaimed,  with  a  fervour  of  manner  foreign  to  his 
habits, — '  The  Romish  church  I  consider  to  be  the  great  despot- 
ism of  the  world,  which  is  supported  by  the  power  it  obtains 
over  the  souls  of  men,  through  the  agency  of  its  confessional. 
In  the  scrutiny  it  exercises  there,  it  aims  at  emulating  the  omni- 
science of  the  Most  High,  by  endeavouring  to  "  discern  the 
thoughts  afar  off;1'  while,  by  barbarously  dragging  to  light  every 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSHIP.  177 

latent  passion,  and  every  half-formed  evil  purpose,  which 
might  otherwise  have  expired  in  embryo,  the  confessional 
becomes  the  nursery  of  crime. 

'  The  Romish  church  asserts,  in  effect,  "  all  souls  are  mine," 
thus  arrogating  to  itself  that  which  belongs  to  God  alone. 
Hence,  its  persecution  unto  death,  whenever  it  has  power,  of 
those  who  dissent  from  its  creeds,  stigmatising  them  as  heretics, 
and  consigning  them,  with  religious  solemnities,  to  an  eternal 
damnation,  under  the  blasphemous  pretence  of  doing  service  to 
God! 

'  This  practice  of  human  sacrifices,  which  is  distinctly  recorded 
as  a  doctrine  in  its  creeds,  is,  in  a  church  nominally  Christian,  so 
notoriously  adverse  to  the  precepts  and  spirit  of  Christianity,  as 
to  render  the  assumption  of  its  name  a  revolting  misnomer ;  and 
to  reduce  it  by  its  hypocrisy  below  the  level  of  the  most  barba- 
rous paganism  of  the  ancient  world ;  and  even  below  the  thug- 
gery of  modern  India !  Oh,  what  have  I  been  doing  for  more 
than  eighty  years,  that  I  have  discerned  these  things  only  now !' 

I  was  alarmed  at  the  vehemence  with  which  he  uttered  this 
lamentation,  and  approached  him  to  inquire  if  he  was  ill. 

'  No,  my  good  friend,'  he  replied,  '  not  ill  in  body,  but  broken- 
hearted, and  bewildered  by  the  old  things  which  I  now  view  in 
so  new  a  light.  I  am  like  a  man  who,  having  been  born  blind, 
is  late  in  life  endowed  with  sight.  The  light  of  truth  over- 
powers me,  and  the  magnitude  and  prominence  of  those  things 
which  I  was  wont  to  consider  as  nothing,  overwhelm  me  by 
their  importance,  and  their  relation  with  eternity. 

1  Having  been  born  in  the  Romish  church,  it  was  the  cradle  of 
my  intellect ;  and  in  that  cradle  I  was  taught  those  complicated 
dogmas,  and  those  specious  falsehoods,  which  were  as  little 
understood  by  me  in  subsequent  years,  as  then.  It  is  in  the 
nature  of  the  teaching  of  that  church  to  stultify  the  intellect,  as 
it  is  also  the  natural  tendency  of  its  sophistries  to  destroy  the 
perception  of  truth. 

'  As  the  first  and  most  indispensable  of  its  doctrines,  I  was 
despotically  taught  the  infallibility  of  the  church.  In  that  doc- 
trine it  was  my  duty  to  rest  without  inquiry ;  and  I  became, 
what  all  Romish  individuals  become,  more  or  less,  an  automaton, 

8* 


178  HELEN  MULGBAVE;  OR, 

actuated  neither  by  reason  nor  by  instinct,  but  coerced  by  an 
external  agency,  which,  while  it  fetters  the  outer  man  with 
forms,  and  surrounds  him  with  mimicries  of  sacred  things,  leaves 
the  inner  man  to  "perish  for  lack  of  knowledge."  Knowledge 
is  the  antidote  to  popery.  Alas,  how  great  has  been  my  guilt  of 
ignorance!' 

As  he  ceased  speaking,  he  arose,  and  went  to  his  own  apart- 
ment. 

It  was  a  dull,  cold  afternoon.  The  very  cattle  on  the  hill- 
sides, opposite  our  windows,  moved  sluggishly ;  and  no  human 
form  had  been  visible  for  some  time,  when  I  saw  passing  along 
the  road  a  tall  stout  female  figure, -very  much  muffled  up,  as  if 
she  too  felt  the  cold.  She  moved  with  a  hurried  step,  as 
though  impelled  by  some  urgency:  but  I  should  not  perhaps 
have  noticed  her,  had  she  not  appeared  to  be  a  stranger. 

Father  Ossory  returned  to  the  room,  while  I  yet  stood  at  the 
window,  which  I  immediately  quitted,  and  took  a  seat  by  him 
near  the  fire.  We  sat  for  some  minutes  in  silence,  which  he 
broke  by  saying,  '  You  are  aware  of  the  persecution  from  all 
quarters  which  I  endured  at  first,  on  my  secession  from  the 
Romish  church,  and  by  which  even  my  life  was  occasionally 
endangered.  But  I  have  to  thank  God,  that  these  things  did  not 
shake  my  faith  in  those  divine  truths,  with  which  I  had  so  lately 
become  acquainted  ;  and,  believing  that  I  had  exchanged  a  false 
for  a  true  worship,  and  being,  as  I  trusted,  under  the  scriptural 
banner  of  the  cross,  I  had  no  anxiety  respecting  my  personal 
safety,  of  even  my  life.  I  rather  hoped  that  I  might  be  found 
worthy  to  suffer  unto  death,  in  a  cause  to  which  I  could  now 
devote  but  a  worthless  fragment  of  my  life;  and  my  deep  feel- 
ings of  repentance  for  the  past  led  me  to  court  danger  rather 
than  to  avoid  it,  in  the  performance  of  the  few  public  duties 
that  remained  to  me.' 

As  he  ceased  speaking,  Father  Ossory  rose  from  his  seat  and 
stood  in  the  front  of  the  fire,  when  instantaneously  a  shot  was 
fired  through  the  window  of  the  room,  which,  passing  close  by 
his  head,  penetrated  an  opposite  panel  in  the  wainscot. 

I  started  from  my  seat,  forcibly  drawing  him  at  the  same 
moment  out  of  the  line  of  the  window,  towards  which  I  had  not 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSHIP.  179 

time  to  turn  my  head,  before  a  second  shot  passed  through  the 
room,  from  the  same  quarter,  and  in  the  same  direction  as  the 
former. 

We  both  stood  for  a  second,  speechless,  and  then  retired  pre- 
cipitately, to  a  room  on  the  other  side  of  the  Cottage,  where  the 
children  and  Mary  were. 

It  was  already  dusk,  and  the  increasing  darkness  of  evening 
soon  enabled  us  to  close  the  window-shutters,  without  exciting 
any  suspicion  of  our  apprehensions  in  those  who  might  be 
watching  our  movements  from  without. 

In  our  little  circle,  those  of  us  who  comprehended  our  peril- 
ous position  were  in  no  enviable  state  of  feeling.  Kot  one  of 
the  least  affected  by  the  incident  was  Rover,  who,  chained  with- 
in his  own  house,  kept  up  an  incessant  growl,  interrupted  only 
by  furious  barking,  which,  by  drawing  attention  to  his  where- 
abouts, might  have  provoked  an  attack  upon  him. 

The  good  father  was  exceedingly  distressed  at  the  occurrence, 
because  he  considered  it  to  have  been  on  his  account  that  we 
were  placed  in  so  much  danger.  Under  this  impression,  he  pro- 
posed that  on  the  morrow  he  should  leave  us,  and  commit  him- 
self alone  to  the  haArds  of  his  own  position ;  but  of  course  I 
would  not  listen  to  such  a  proposal  for  a  moment.  Indeed,  I 
was  not  at  all  certain,  denounced  as  I  had  often  been  from  the 
altars  of  different  parish  chapels  in  the  county,  when  first  I 
abjured  Popery,  that  I  was  not  as  much  the  aim  of  the  assassin 
as  Father  Ossory. 

The  children,  without  being  informed  of  what  had  occurred, 
saw  that  there  was  some  unusual  anxiety  amongst  us,  and 
became  restless  and  uneasy.  They  were  kept  up,  too,  beyond 
their  usual  hour  of  going  to  bed,  for  I  could  not  under  such  cir- 
cumstances suffer  them  to  be  a  moment  out  of  my  sight.  Rover 
still  continued  growling  and  barking,  and  Father  Ossory  and  I 
reconnoitred  from  the  windows  of  his  room,  which  commanded 
the  public  road,  the  appearance  of  things  without ;  but  the  dark- 
ness was  so  extreme  that  nothing  could  be  seen. 

Our  .neighbourhood  was  utterly  destitute  of  protection ;  so 
that  had  we  been  venturous  enough  to  seek  assistance  for  the 
night,  from  the  small  town  in  our  vicinity,  there  would  havo 


180  HELEN  MULGRAVE;  OK, 

been  little  chance  of  obtaining  it ;  while  there  would  have  been 
a  certainty  of  our  being  watched  and  waylaid  in  the  attempt. 
Father  Ossory  was,  indeed,  earnest  in  a  desire  to  find  his  way  to 
the  town  by  the  light  of  a  hand-lantern,  but  we  would  not 
allow  it. 

After  sitting  up  unusually  late,  we  assembled  round  our 
family  altar,  and  commended  ourselves  to  God  with  fervent 
supplication  that  he  would  be  our  guardian  through"  the  hours 
of  darkness. 

It  is  certainly  worth  remembering,  that  we  all  slept  as  sound- 
ly as  usual  on  that  cold,  dark,  January  night,  and  that  we 
awoke.on  the  morrow  to  hail  a  bright  and  cheerful  morning. 

The  warm  greetings  with  which  we  met  on  that  morning,  as 
we  counted  up  our  little  household,  and  assured  ourselves  that 
not  one  was  missing,  formed  an  epoch,  upon  which  I  have  often 
looked  back  with  strong  and  grateful  emotion. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

WHILE  I  was  conversing  with  Father  Ossory  after  breakfast, 
Mary,  who  had  been  into  the  town,  returned.  As  she  came 
into  the  room,  she  approached  me  with  extraordinary  earnestness 
and  agitation;  saying,  that  in  her  walk  through  the  town,  she 
had  seen  Margaret  Brian,  who  was  so  handsomely  and  fashion- 
ably dressed  that  she  should  not  have  known  her,  had  not  her 
face  been  perfectly  familiar  to  her.  No  recognition  had  taken 
place  on  Brian's  part,  and  Mary  was  in  doubt  whether  she  had 
even  seen  her,  as  their  eyes  did  not  meet. 

This  information  was  sufficiently  alarming  to  occasion  a  new 
source  of  anxiety  ;  but  after  some  reflection,  it  appeared  to  me 
more  than  probable  that  Brian  herself  might  have  been  the 
party  who  aimed  at  playing  the  assassin  on  the  preceding 
evening. 

•   It  was    certainly  corroborative  of  this   suspicion,  that    tho 
female  figure,  muffled  up,  which  I  had  seen  pass  the  window, 


JKSCIT    EXECUTORSHIP.  181 

just  before  the  shot  was  fired  into  it,  answered  precisely  to  the 
description  which  I  had  always  heard  of  the  size  and  height  of 
Brian.  If  it  was  so,  there  was  small  chance  of  averting  her 
purpose,  although  she  had  failed  in  her  first  attempt,  as  she  was 
always  inflexible  in  pursuit  of  her  objects.  But  as  she  had  been 
charged  with  felony  by  my  father,  and  had  only  escaped  the 
prosecution  of  the  charge  by  flight,  it  might  prove  an  effectual 
mode  of  defending  ourselves  against  farther  outrage,  to  seize 
her  by  legal  authority  on  that  ground. 

In  pursuance  of  this  idea,  I  immediately  wrote  to  a  magis- 
trate whom  I  had  formerly  known,  and  who  was  one  of  those 
who  had  held  a  council  at  Mulgrave  Castle,  at  the  time  of  the 
incendiary  attempt  to  destroy  it. 

As  I  began  to  address  this  gentleman,  who  was  a  man  of 
rank,  I  shrank  from  the  task  I  had  assumed ;  for,  how  will  my 
appeal  be  received  ?  was  an  inquiry  which  I  could  not  but  make, 
and  which  entirely  unnerved  me.  It  is  always  difficult  for  the 
poor  and  the  obscure  in  life  to  interest  their  superiors  in  their 
difficulties,  and  still  more  so  for  those  who  having  sunk  very 
far  below  themselves,  are  no  longer  recognisable  by  their 
former  associates. 

But  I  pursued  my  object,  in  spite  of  my  timidity,  alluding  as 
slightly  as  possible  to  my  former  self,  and  merely  placing  before 

the  Marquis  of the  perilous  situation  of  my  family,  in  a 

cottage  half  a  mile  distant  from  a.nf  other  habitation,  thus  fired 
into,  as  I  believed,  by  a  woman,  who  was  known  to  have 
plotted  the  destruction  of  Mulgrave  Castle. 

As  the  marquis  lived  five  miles  off",  I  was  totally  at  a  loss  how 
to  convey  my  letter  to  him;  and  as  it  was  necessary  that  he 
should  have  it  without  delay,  I  seriously  lamented  the  diffi- 
culty. 

When  Father  Ossory  understood  the  impediment,  he  insisted 
on  being  himself  the  bearer  of  the  letter.  It  seemed  almost 
barbarous  to  allow  him  to  undertake  such  a  commission;  but 
he  would  not  be  diverted  from  it  by  any  remonstrance  I  could 
make,  on  the  impossibility  of  his  reaching  a  place  five  miles 
distant,  without  a  conveyance.  Assuring  me  that  he  should 
easily  and  speedily  find  one,  he  set  out  on  his  errand. 


182  HELEN    MULGRAVE J    OR, 

Although  I  was  well  aware  of  the  importance  of  not  losing  an 
hour  in  my  application  to  the  magistrate,  and  knew  how  much 
more  effectual  it  would  be  through  an  agent  like  Father  Ossory, 
I  was  tilled  with  inquietude  during  his  absence,  lest,  if  any 
enemy  should  be  in  pursuit. of  his  life,  he  might  be  assassinated 
before  he  could  return  to  us. 

When,  therefore,  we  saw  his  bent  and  wasted  form,  in  the 
dusk  of  the  evening,  entering  the  wicket,  we  were  all  rejoiced 
beyond  measure ;  and  the  children,  clapping  their  hands,  ran  out 
to  lead  him  in. 

He  had  been  so  fortunate  as  to  obtain  a  conveyance ;  and  yet 
he  was  so  weary  and  exhausted,  that  J  could  not  but  reproach 
myself  for  every  languid  symptom  he  exhibited. 

Nevertheless,  it  was  a  joyful  re-union,  and  we  felt  afresh  how 
valuable  he  was  to  us  in  our  loneliness ;  while  he  described  him- 
self as  feeling  like  the  dove  sent  out  of  the  ark,  nntil  he  found 
himself  again  in  the  cottage,  in  his  accustomed  easy-chafr. 

His  mission  had  been  very  successful,  the  marquis  of 

having  promised  him,  that  Brian  should  be  immediately  looked 
after,  and  '  a  bailiff  sent  to  pay  his  respects  to  her.'  After  she 
was  secured,  it  would,  he  said,  be  the  part  of  some  of  the  family 
to  appear  against  her. 

I  had  not  hitherto  been  aware,  that  after  she  had  been  com- 
mitted to  legal  keeping,  I  should  have  anything  further  to  do 
with  her ;  but  now,  in  being  obliged  to  appear  against  her  I  saw 
myself  involved  in  serious  consequences,  if  I  should  not  be  able 
to  prove  her  the  criminal  I  suspected  her  to  be. 

I  was  becoming  very  anxious,  lest,  by  the  movement  I  had 
made,  I  had  rendered  our  position  more  insecure  than  ever, 
when  I  heard  the  wicket-gate  move  on  its  hinges,  and  turning 
my  head  towards  the  window,  saw  a  gentleman  enter  the 
garden.  It  was  my  uncle  from  London !  Oh,  what  unexpected 
joy !  But  he  looked  so  jaded  and  worn,  that  my  joy  was 
instantly  dashed  with  pain. 

But  he  was  there,  and  that  was  an  event  of  itself  to  inspire 
gladness  in  our  whole  household.  He  had  left  his  carriage  and 
servants  at  the  neigbouring  town,  and  walked  thence  to  the 
cottage. 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSHIP.  183 

I  had  seen  my  uncle  but  once  since  my  father's  death,  when 
he  paid  a  visit  to  my  husband  and  myself  soon  after  our  mariage, 
and  remained  with  us  several  days.  Since  then,  I  had  had  but 
little  intercourse  with  him;  his  affairs  in  London,  and  the 
encumbered  estate  of  which  he  had  come  into  possession,  absor- 
bing his  whole  time  and  attention. 

He  was  visibly  and  excessively  shocked  at  the  situation  in 
which  he  found  me,  and  declared  with  great  energy,  that  he  had 
no  idea  of  my  having  been  left  in  such  utter  destitution.  Fitz- 
gerald, he  said,  assured  him  in  the  last  interview  he  had  with 
him,  that  my  jointure  was  well  secured,  whatever  might  be  the 
consequences  to  his  estate  or  himself,  of  any  irregularities  he 
might  fall  into. 

'  I  knew,'  said  he,  '  that  he  was  a  gambler,  but  I  did  not  sup- 
pose him  to  be  so  utterly  unprincipled  as  I  now  find  he  was. 
What  a  will !'  He  lamented  in  the  most  affectionate  terms  his 
own  inability  to  afford  me  aid  against  the  executors,  or  to  ame- 
liorate my  condition,  except  he  could  do  so  by  any  influence  ho 
might  have  in  society.  I  then  inquired  if  he  thought  it  possible 
that  I  could  in  any  way  place  myself  more  advantageously  in 
London,  where  I  should  be  near  him,  who  would  then  be  able 
to  protect  me. 

I  saw  his  whole  countenance  change,  and  assume  an  expression 
of  strong  emotion,  as  this  proposal  was  made,  and  many  minutes 
elapsed  before  he  attempted  a  reply.  When  he  did  so,  he  hesi- 
tated and  faltered,  in  a  voice  that  was  dry  and  husky,  and  in 
words  that  I  did  not  at  first  quite  understand.  But  I  finally 
discovered,  that  it  required  more  moral  courage  than  my  uncle 
possessed,  to  identify  himself  with  a  reduced  and  almost  desti- 
tute relative,  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  his  own  sphere. 

Sir-  Felix  Mulgrave,  after  sitting  silent  a  few  minutes,  looked 
at  his  watch,  and  pleaded  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  and  his 
expected  immediate  return  to  the  inn,  where  he  had  ordered 
dinner,  as  an  excuse  for  his  instant  departure.  But  I  could  not 
let  him  depart  without  speaking  to  him  of  Brian,  and  the  ex- 
treme peril  in  which  we  considered  ourselves  from  the  occur- 
rence of  the  preceding  day,  with  the  discovery  of  her  being  in 
the  neighbourhood. 


184  HEI.KX   vn.GKAVE  ;  OR, 

I  therefore  begged  him  to  indulge  me  a  few  minutes  longer, 
as  it  was  necessary  that  he  should  be  informed  of  that  in  which 
the  family  of  Mulgrave  at  large  were  interested.  As  he  was  of 
course  already  acquainted  with  Brian's  former  delinquencies,  he 
saw  at  once  the  importance  of  securing  her,  as  well  as  the  strong 
probability  of  her  being  the  party  who  had  fired  into  my  cottage. 
When  he  further  learnt  that,  in  case  of  her  being  arrested  at  my 
instance,  it  would  be  necessary  for  me  to  appear  against  her,  he 
said  at  once  that  he  would  take  that  part  on  himself,  and  also 
adopt  measures  for  the  future  exemption  of  my  cottage  from  her 
attacks. 

He  then  hastily  rose,  and  .without  any  apparent  pain  at 
leaving  me  in  so  forlorn  a  condition,  gave  me  a  finger  for  his 
farewell,  and  hurried  off. 

Thus  ended  an  interview  that  in  its  first  moments  had  given 
rise  to  glowing  hopes,  which  drooped  and  expired  before  he  dis- 
appeared from  the  tearful  gaze  with  which  I  watched  him  out 
of  sight.  It  is  difficult  to  satisfy  the  requirements  of  such  poor 
as  myself,  who  are  more  galled  by  the  contumely  of  their  former 
equals,  than  by  the  deprivations  of  poverty,  and  would  rather 
forego  a  benefit  coldly  or  haughtily  rendered,  than  obtain  it  at 
the  cost  of  wounded  feelings. 

But  a  shower  of  tears  after  my  uncle's  departure  cleared 
my  mental  vision,  and  enabled  me  to  see  and  to  acknowledge 
that  he  had  in  reality  been  more  kind  than  I  could  reasonably 
have  expected  him  to  be. 

As  we  had  taken  measures  for  our  safety,  we  lay  down  on 
this  night  with  rather  less  anxiety  than  on  the  preceding. 
Before  retiring,  we  let  loose  the  dog,  that  we  might  further 
secure  ourselvs,  by  the  exercise  of  his  fine  and  faithful  instincts 
in  our  defence.  He  had  been,  indeed,  so  restless  under  his  chain 
from  the  first  moment  of  the  attack  upon  the  cottage,  that  had 
we  not  feared  for  his  life,  we  should  have  given  him  his  liberty 
then.  Now  that  he  had  obtained  it,  he  seemed  half  frantic 
with  delight ;  running  round  the  house  in  every  direction,  and 
snuffing  the  ground  as  he  went,  to  find  out  the  track  of  the 
enemy. 

The  moon  was  only  in  her  first  quarter,  and  the  sky  was 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  185 

cloudy;  but  there  was  enough  of  light,  as  we  examined  appear- 
ances without,  from  an  upper  window,  to  discern  any  object  that 
might  have  been  in  motion,  but  none  was  visible. 

Rover's  terrific  voice,  which  must  have  been  heard  a  long  way 
off,  as  he  dashed  about  in  all  directions,  was  of  itself  a 
protection. 

We  were  happy  enough  on  the  following  morning  to  find  him 
unharmed,  and  reposing  in  his  own  house. 

In  the  course  of  the  day,  I  had  a  note  from  my  uncle,  to  tell 
me  that  he  was  of  opinion  we  had  nothing  more  to  fear  from 
Margaret  Brian ;  as  before  any  legal  authority  could  be  made 
available  against  her,  she  had  disappeared,  under  the  alarming 
rumour,  which  had  circulated  like  wildfire,  that  a  process  was 
being  instituted  to  secure  her  person  on  an  old  charge  of  felony, 
and  a  new  one  of  attacking  a  cottage  by  firing  into  it. 

The  currency  which  my  uncle  found  it  easy  to  give  to  this 
rumour  would,  he  thought,  be  found  sufficient  to  deter  her  from 
being  again  seen  in  our  vicinity.  Thus  ended  an  alarm  which, 
had  it  continued,  must  have  entirely  destroyed  the  tranquillity  of 
our  little  household.  As  it  was,  indeed,  we  could  not  at  once 
regain  the  same  degree  of  security  that  we  had  been  accustomed 
to  feel  previously. 

But  having  done  all  that  we  could  do,  we  felt  that  we  might, 
without  presumption,  confide  our  future  to  the  Almighty. 

Rover,  after  this,  was  regularly  installed  as  our  nightly  guard, 
and  well  did  he  perambulate  our  little  territory  and  its  neigh- 
bouring grounds,  from  the  close  until  the  dawn  of  the  day  ;  so 
that  under  his  guardianship  we  enjoyed  three  months  of  undis- 
turbed security. 

The  more  we  reflected  on  the  probability  that  it  was  Brian 
who  had  fired  into  our  cottage,  the  stronger  was  our  belief  in  it. 

She  had  always  been  a  notorious  zealot  of  her  church,  even  in 
her  early  days,  and  an  active  and  successful  persecutor  of  Pro- 
testants, in  proportion  to  the  irresponsibility  of  her  social  posi- 
tion. She  was,  in  fact,  a  true  child  of  the  Infallible  Church — 
crafty  and  fatal  in  her  machinations,  and  more  dangerous  than 
an  individual  who  has  either  character  or  station  to  lose  by  the 
detection  of  an  enormity. 


186  IliiLEN    ML'LUUAVK  J    OR, 


CHAPTEK  XX. 

IT  was  now  the  month  of  May — that  sweetest  and  most  inspir- 
ing season  of  th&year — when  the  promises  of  hope  are  written 
on  every  smelling  bud,  and  an  atmosphere  vital  and  buoyant 
wakes  every  sense  to  pleasure,  and  renders  even  our  sigh.s  rap- 
turous. 

Can  it  be,  that  the  rushing  joy  of  a  world  springing  into  new 
life,  thus  showered  upon  it  by  the  Creator's  own  hand,  is 
prepared  only  for  material  nature?  May  not  the  spirit  of  man 
drink  of  it  and  live  ?  Are  the  movements  of  the  sweet  spring, 
in  its  opening  leaves,  and  its  soft  tints,  advancing  daily  to  the 
perfection  of  beauty,  to  be  contemplated  without  participation 
in  their  triumphs  ?  The  manifestation  of  that  renovating  power 
which,  from  analogy,  promises  so  much  to  man,  should  lift  him 
above  the  depressions  of  a  transient  life,  and  enable  him  to  see, 
though  afar  off,  his  own  future,  radiated  with  the  glorious  hopes 
that  are  .written  on  it.  Yet,  the  first  flush  of  this  inspiration 
o  ver,  and  my  hopes  evaporated  in  sighs ;  and  exalted  thoughts 
found  a  grave  in  earthly  care — for  to  whatever  point  of  the  com- 
pass I  sent  an  inquiring  glance,  the  future  was  to  me  a  barren 
waste — a  wilderness  of  spectres — from  which  I  was  glad  to 
shrink  back,  even  on  the  perplexing,  unsatisfying  present. 

Father  Ossory  was  still  in  his  usual  health,  living  very  much 
in  the  solitude  of  his  own  room,  in  far  higher  communion  than 
that  of  earth,  and  awaiting  his  dismissal  from  it. 

Although  he  never  reviewed  his  earthly  career  but  with  sor- 
row for  the  unconscious  error  in  which  he  had  lived,  yet  he  had 
attained  to  that  peace  with  God  which  enabled  him  to  rejoice  in 
hope  of  a  blessed  future.  He  several  times  attempted  a  written 
protest  against  the  errors  and  practices  of  the  church  which  he 
had  renounced ;  but  his  sight  had  lately  failed  him,  and  the 
state  of  his  nerves  made  it  impossible  for  him  to  pursue  any  sub- 
ject closely. 

I  therefore  prevailed  upon  him  to  relinquish  this  design,  as  I 
feared  for  the  consequence  to  himself  of  his  persisting  in  it. 


18Y 

Oil  the  evening  of  the  fifteenth  of  May,  he  took  a  walk  with 
my  children  and  myself  round  our  garden.  The  sun  was  still 
above  the  horizon,  but  declining  fast ;  and  its  setting  rays  were 
strikingly  beautiful.  The  sweet  notes  of  some  invisible  bird, 
which  sang  amongst  the  trees,  were  so  touching  as  to  arrest  my 
attention,  and  almost  abstract  me  from  the  scene.  The  children 
plucked  polyanthuses  and  lilies  of  the  valley,  and  placed  them  in 
every  button-hole  of  Father  Ossory's  coat  within  their  reach ; 
thus  dressing  him  in  flowers,  and  'then  dancing  before  him, 
delighted  with  their  achievement  and  the  gaiety  of  his  appear- 
ance. He  was  unusually  serious,  and  did  not  enter  into  the 
spirit  of  their  frolics  as  he  was  accustomed  to  do,  but  seemed 
faint  and  abstracted. 

I  shortened  our  saunter,  and  returned  with  him  to  the  house. 
After  sitting  about  five  minutes,  he  rose  abruptly,  and  bade  me 
and  the  children  good  night,  kissing  each  of  them,  and  begging 
them  to  take  care  of  his  bouquets,  by  putting  them  into  water 
until  the  morning. 

After  he  had  dismissed  the  children,  by  giving  them  something 
to  do,  he  asked  me  if  I  would  take  one  more  turn  with  him  in 
the  garden. 

Of  course  I  accompanied  him ;  and  when  he  found  we  were 
alone,  he  said  to  me,  in  an  under-tone,  '  Did  you  observe  the 
notes  of  the  bird  that  was  singing  while  the  children  were 
dressing  me  in  flowers  ?' 

'  Yes ;  I  thought  they  were  very  sweet.  But  I  fear  the  chil- 
dren prevented  you  from  enjoying  them.' 

4 1  heard  the  song,'  said  he,  almost  in  a  whisper ;  '  it  was  my 
requiem.' 

'  Oh  no,  no,  not  yet!'  said  I. 

•  Ah,  my  friend !  "  The  night  is  far  spent — the  day  is  at  hand." 
Rejoice  for  me!  Yet  I  have  still  much  to  say  to  you,  and 
therefore  I  intend  rising  early  in  the  morning.  "Will  you  be  up 
at  six  ?' 

'  Yes,  certainly,  if  you  wish  it.' 

'  Oh  !  I  would  not  die  without  telling  you  what  I  feel  of  grati- 
tude, of  anxiety,  of  hope,  of  fear  for  you.  But  I  cannot  talk 
now.  May  God  Almighty  bless  you !  I  must  go  to  rest.' 


188  IIKLKN    MLI.GRAVK  ;    OR, 

His  thoughts  seemed  to  wander,  as  he  said  to  himself,  '  Hark ! 
they  whisper;  angels  say,  sister  spirit,  come  away  !'  And  then 
he  quickened  his  step  ;  while  I,  seeing  him  totter,  endeavoured 
to  assist  him  into  the  house.  He  bade  me  '  good  night '  at  the 
foot  of  the  stairs.  I  wished  to  help  him  up,  but  he  would  not 
permit  it. 

After  the  children  had  gone  to  bed,  I  conversed  some  time 
with  Mary,  who  used  to  call  the  hour  when  she  and  I  were  left 
alone,  '  her  holiday.'  On  this  occasion,  we  both  shed  tears  in 
anticipation  of  an  event,  which  I  felt  could  not  be  far  off. 

At  a  late  hour  we  retired  softly  to  our  different  chambers.  I 
lay  long  awake,  and  saw  the  dawn  creeping  in  at  the  window 
before  I  fell  asleep.  Shortly  after,  I  was  again  awake,  and  steal- 
ing with  noiseless  step  to  Father  Ossory's  chamber  door,  listened 
there  awhile,  to  learn  if  he  was  stirring,  or  if  I  could  hear  any 
sound  that  might  assure  me  of  his  welfare.  But  everything 
around  us  was  as  still  as  death. 

I  feared  to  open  his  door  lest  I  might  disturb  him;  and 
retreating  to  my  own  room,  I  lay  down,  and  again  fell  asleep. 

When  I  next  awoke,  I  heard»the  sweet  voices  of  the  children, 
and  Mary's  quiet  movements  below.  I  arose  immediately,  and 
dressing  myself  hastily,  hurried  to  Father  Ossory's  room.  But 
all  was  still  silent  there ;  and  I  was  reluctant,  though  it  was  now 
near  eight,  to  tap  at  his  door,  and  perhaps  awake  him  from 
sleep,  to  ask  how  he  was. 

I  awaited  another  half  hour  in  my  own  room,  and  still  hearing 
no  movement  in  his,  I  tapped  at  his  door.  No  answer — a 
second  tap — and  still  no  reply.  I  then  softly  opened  the  door, 
and  could  discern,  as  I  stood  at  it,  the  extreme  paleness  of  his 
face,  as  he  lay  in  bed.  Walking  slowly  to  his  bedside,  I  saw  at 
once  what  I  had  feared-  -the  angel  of  death  had  been  there — his 
spirit  had  departed. 

*  *  *  *  *  * 

Although  the  circumstances  of  the  preceding  evening  had  cer- 
tainly prepared  me  to  think  his  death  might  be  near,  yet  I  was 
not  willing,  when  I  saw  it,  to  believe  in  my  own  prescience. 
Neither  was  I,  as  I  ought  to  have  been,  prepared  for  the  shock 
of  the  event.  No ;  I  stood  breathlessly  gazing,  and  wept,  and 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSHIP.  189 

touched  his  cold  hands,  and  marked  his  fine  open  forehead,  now 
without  its  usual  look  of  care,  and  his  whole  countenance,  placid 
and  tranquil  as  a  face  of  marble.  It  was  death. 

On  looking  around  the  chamber,  I  observed  that  the  custom- 
ary refreshments  which  had  been  placed  for  him  were  untouch- 
ed. But  he  had  evidently  been  occupied  after  he  had  retired  ; 
for  on  a  table  in  the  middle  of  the  room  his  writing  desk  was 
open,  and  on  his  dressing-table  lay  three  small  packages  in  writ- 
ing paper.  One  of  them  was  inscribed, — 

'  For  Frederic  William  Fitzgerald,  a  gift  from  his  friend, 

'W.  OSSORY.' 

Another,  '  For  Mary  Walter,  a  gift  from  her  friend, 

'W.  OSSORY.' 

The  third,  '  For  my  funeral  expenses,  being  all  the  money  I 
have.' 

Inside  the  package  addressed  to  my  son,  which  contained 
a  gold  watch  of  ancient  workmanship,  was  a  note  in  the  follow- 
ing words  : — 

'  The  enclosed  watch  was  given  me,  more  than  sixty  years 
since,  by  Marie  The>ese,  Empress  of  Austria,  as  a  mark  of  her 
approbation  of  a  slight  service  which  I,  then  a  student  in 
Vienna,  had  been  so  fortunate  as  to  render  her.  As  an  ancient 
relic  of  a  Royal  personage  so  illustrious  as  the  donor,  I  would 
fain  hope  it  may  not  be  wholly  unacceptable  to  Frederic, 
although  its  pecuniary  value  is  too  insignificant  to  render  it 
worthy  of  the  grandson  of  Sir  William  Mulgrave.'  The  packet 
addressed  to  Mary  contained  the  silver  watch  of  the  donor,  which 
he  had  been  accustomed  to  wear  constantly. 

He  must  have  wound  it  up  before  going  to  bed,  as  it  was  still 
ticking  when  we  opened  the  parcel. 

The  third  packet  contained  ten  guineas.  In  a  short  note 
addressed  to  myself,  which  lay  on  his  desk,  and  which  was  full 
of  the  most  affecting  acknowledgments,  and  earnest  aspirations 
for  my  family  at  large,  he  begged  that  his  funeral  might  be  per- 
formed at  the  smallest  possible  cost ;  and  that,  if  the  ten  guineas 
which  he  had  left  for  that  purpose  should  prove  insufficient,  the 
better  part  of  his  wardrobe  might  be  sold  to  cover  the  defi- 
ciency. The  remainder  of  his  apparel  he  requested  me  to  give 


i90  HELEX  MUJ.CRAVE;  OR, 

to  the  poor  of  the  neighbourhood,  in  such  proportions  as  I 
might  think  best. 

There  was  a  postscript  at  the  end  of  the  note  in  the  following 
words : — 

'  Time,  or  rather  eternity,  presses  on  me ;  and  I  had  forgotten 
that  I  intended  offering  my  books  to  you,  my  most  kind  and 
generous  friend.  I  beg  you  to  accept  them,  for  it  is,  even  at 
this  solemn  moment,  a  thought  of  passing  pleasure,  that  your 
hands  will  sometimes  turn  over  those  pages  on  which  mine  have 
so  often  rested ;  and  that  the  reasoning  which  once  instructed 
me,  or  the  delineations  that  delighted  me,  may  have  a  similar 
effect  on  you.  Farewell !  I  go  to  rest — perchance  to  meet  you 
in  the  morning  at  six.  Yet  no  ;  I  shall  not  see  another  morning 

until  that  of  the  resurrection,  for  I  arn,  even  now,  dying. 

x 

Strange  that  a  harp  of  thousand  strings 
Should  keep  in  tune  so  long.' 
*  #  *  '*  *  * 

While  his  corpse  remained  in  the  house,  it  was  distressing  to 
observe  the  uneasiness  of  the  children.  They  spoke  to  each 
other  in  whispers,  and  clung  together  even  as  they  stood  by  my 
side.  Nor  was  Mary  or  I,  perhaps,  less  affected  than  they,  by 
the  feeling  that  death  was  again  amongst  us. 

Severed  as  we  were  by  our  peculiar  circumstances  from  the 
ordinary  sympathy  of  neighbours  and  friends,  the  desolation  of 
that  consciousness  became  paralyzing.  I  found  the  only  effec- 
tual mode  of  rousing  myself  from  torpor,  was  to  visit  the  corpse, 
and  contemplate  closely  that  which  in  absence  so  much  affected 
my  imagination.  In  these  visits,  the  children  never  attempted 
to  join  me  after  having  once  seen  the  dead ;  nor  do  I  think  they 
recovered  from  the  shock  of  that  sight  until  after  the  funeral  of 
the  deceased. 

We  buried  him  on  the  afternoon  of  the  twenty-first  of  May,  in 
a  small,  obscure  burying-ground,  belonging  to  some  Methodists 
in  the  neighbourhood,  in  which  my  two  infants  had  been  laid, 
about  twelve  months  before.  An  itinerant  minister  of  that 
most  kind  and  pious  sect  performed  the  funeral  service  over  the 
venerated  dead;  our  little  household  comprising  the  only 
mourners  that  stood  round  his  grave. 


JESCIT    EXECCTORSHIF.  191 

In  the  immediate  vicinity  of  that  grave  was  the  small  mound 
that  covered  my  little  infants,  and  which  at  that  time  was 
blooming  with  fragrant  flowers  that  had  been  planted  by  Mary 
the  preceding  year,  and  since  tended  by  my  dear  children. 

When  we  returned  home,  we  were  greeted  by  Rover,  who 
had  been  left  to  guard  the  cottage  in  our  absence,  with  the  most 
decided,  though  not  boisterous  joy.  He  seemed  to  understand 
the  whole  affair,  having,  like  the  children,  so  l9ng  as  the  corpse 
remained  in  the  house,  gone  about  with  a  dejected  air,  occasion- 
ally moaning  as  he  met  with  anything  that  had  belonged  to  the 
departed. 

We  were  many  days,  and  even  weeks,  before  we  were  able 
to  return  to  our  ordinary  pursuits  with  any  feeling  of  interest  in 
them ;  and  as  I  reflected  on  the  singular  piety,  amiability,  and 
intelligence  of  our  departed  friend,  I  could  not  but  feel  that  his 
loss  to  us,  as  an  inmate,  was  real,  and  must  be  lasting. 

It  is  true  he  had  fallen,  ''Like  a  shock  of  corn,  fully  ripe  in  its 
season,'  and  his  death  had  been  foreseen  and  expected.  But 
this  did  not  diminish  our  grief.  The  good  are  taken  from  the 
evil  to  come ;  and  this  was  literally  and  strikingly  true  in 
Father  Ossory's  case.  Nevertheless,  I  was  not  as  resigned  as  I 
ought  to  have  been  to  the  event,  for  at  the  domestic  altar  we 
had  sustained  an  irreparable  loss,  where  his  venerable  form  and 
serious  countenance  gave  force  to  every  sentiment  and  exhorta- 
tion he  uttered,  and  impressed  his  hearers  with  the  reality  of 
those  invisible  things,  which,  depicted  by  a  less  intelligent  and 
earnest  speaker,  might  have  seemed  but  as  words  of  course. 
Our  distance  from  any  Protestant  place  of  worship  had  also  ren- 
dered him  invaluable  to  us  as  a  minister  of  the  Gospel,  when,  as 
our  little  group  were  wont  to  assemble  round  him  on  the 
Sabbath,  the  devotional  feelings  with  which  he  was  accustomed 
to  inspire  his  auditors  made  me  often  exclaim,  mentally,  in 
fervour  of  feeling,  '  Surely,  this  is"  none  other  but  the  House  of 
God  !'  Now,  we  saw  him  no  more  in  the  arm-chair  he  had  so 
often  filled,  and  we  listened  in  vain  to  catch  the  accents  of  affec- 
lion  that  fell  from  his  lips.  But  we  knew  the  consoling  fact, 
that  although  he  would  '  not  return  to  us,  we  should  go  to  him.' 


192  HELEN  MULORAVE;  OR, 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

IN  looking  into  my  pecuniary  affairs  now,  at  the  end  of  my 
first  year  of  widowhood  and  of  poverty,  I  found  that  I  had  not 
duly  estimated  the  cost  of  sustaining  my  family. 

"While  Father  Ossory  lived,  I  continually  put  off  the  day  of 
reckoning,  apprehensive  that  the  results  might  be  so  alarming 
as  to  cause  me  to  betray  to  him  the  actual  state  of  my  position, 
which,  as  it  was  utterly  out  of  his  power  to  amend  it,  would 
have  made  him  wretched. 

Now,  however,  it  was  necessary  that  I  should  begin  a  new 
course,  for  I  was  in  advance  of  my  miserable  pittance ;  and  as 
my  children's  wants  would  be  daily  increasing,  it  was  'necessary 
that  I  should  observe  a  more  rigid  economy  than  I  had  hitherto 
practised.  How  I  should  be  able  to  provide  for  the  future,  was 
still  more  perplexing  than  for  the  present,  as  I  had  no  prospect 
in  life  for  my  daughters,  except  I  could  teach  them  to  live  by 
their  own  exertions. 

My  eldest  girl,  Dora,  was  just  seven  years  of  age,  and  Caroline 
not  yet  six. 

My  youngest  child,  ray  son,  already  four  and  a  half,  was  but 
nominally  mine,  and  destined  to  be  torn  from  me  in  the  course 
of  a  few  months.  Yet  so  long  as  I  saw  him  under  my  roof,  and 
folded  him  in  my  arms,  I  was  wont  to  cherish  hope  that  that 
cruel  destiny  might  yet  be  averted.  If  not,  I  dreaded  to  think 
of  tlie  consequences  of  seeing  him  borne  away. 

But  as  we  have  no  prescience  sufficient  to  inform  us  of  what 
a  day  may  bring  forth,  so  we  are  not  permitted  to  create 
phantom  griefs,  and  incapacitate  ourselves  for  present  duty, 
by  anticipations  of  future  evil  that  may  never  arrive.  Mean- 
while, I  read  and  wept,  and  prayed  with  my  child,  in  labouring 
to  trive  him  scriptural  ideas  of  God  and  divine  truth,  inducing 
thereby  almost  a  precocity  in  such  knowledge,  which  I  well 
knew,  like  the  forced  plant  of  the  hot-house,  might  perish  under 
a  single  blast,  by  an  untimely  removal  from  its  native  soil  and 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSHIP.  193 

atmosphere.  Nevertheless,  it  was  my  duty  to  continue  my 
labour,  and  though  it  was  not  in  my  power  to  mitigate  the 
hardships  which  my  son  was  now  enduring  on  the  very  thresh- 
old of  his  existence,  I  hoped  they  might  at  least  prove  a  salu- 
tary discipline  for  whatever  lot  awaited  him. 

After  much  painful  rumination,  I  resolved  on  bringing  up  my 
daughters  for  private  governesses.  They  were  both  very  intel- 
ligent girls,  and  until  a  year  ago  had  been  instructed,  so  far  as 
children  of  their  age  could  be,  by  an  English  governess,  and 
were  sufficiently  advanced  in  the  elements  of  knowledge  when 
they  came  out  of  her  hands. 

My  son,  also  at  four  could  read  first  books,  and  perform  with 
ease  those  little  tasks  given  to  children  of  his  age.  I  regret  to 
say  that  during  the  past  year  very  little  progress  had  been  made 
under  my  own  tuition  in  book-knowledge;  but  I  had  taught 
them  many  practical  and  useful  matters  of  fact,  and  had  endea- 
voured to  imbue  them  with  common  sense. 

Ornamental  education  is  often  imposed  on  the  young,  before 
any  foundation  has  been  laid  in  the  mind  of  useful  and  essential 
knowledge.  I  dreaded  this  course  of  proceeding  with  my  chil- 
dren, as  I  was  fearful  of  producing  a  result  that  might  be  fatal 
to  their  future  success,  in  the  sphere  of  life  which  I  had  chosen 
for  them,  and  which  might  retard  the  development  of  that 
sound  common  sense,  which  can  alone  form  a  durable  basis  for 
every  human  acquirement.  I  wished  also  to  avoid  the  common 
error  in  private  education,  of  prematurely  refining  the  charac- 
ter ;  as  it  appeared  to  me  that  refinement  should  be  the  natural 
offspring  of  taste,  and  not  the  graft  of  cultivation.  And  for  the 
very  humble  sphere  in  which  my  children  were  destined  to 
move,  to  aim  at  refinement  would  have  been  a  cruel  error ;  as 
all  courage,  short  of  moral  heroism,  must  be  insufficient  to  ren- 
der their  career  successful,  and  fence  off  from  them  the  innume- 
rable lacerations  incident  to  their  destined  profession. 

I  had  already  lost  much  time  in  the  process  of  preparation ; 
and  before  I  could  proceed  further,  without  interruption,  it  was 
necessary  that  the  amount  of  my  future  family  expenditure  should 
be  reduced  to  rule. 

Mary,    who    had    originally    been     brought    up    somewhat 


194  HELEN  MULGRAVE;  OR, 

delicately,  and  whoso  occupation  as  a  lady's  inaid  had  been  of 
the  lightest  kind  of  labour,  had,  since  we  had  been  living  at  the 
cottage,  voluntarily  assumed,  and  succeeded  in  performing,  all 
kinds  of  household  work  with  the  most  admirable  nicety.  For 
this  she  had  received  no  higher  wages  than  heretofore ;  but  even 
this  amount,  if  she  remained  with  me,  I  should  be  obliged  to 
reduce.  As  this  was  a  species  of  injustice  against  which  my 
mind  strongly  revolted,  I  found  it  for  many  days  impossible  to 
speak  of  it.  At  length,  I  explained  to  her  my  pecuniary  diffi- 
culty, requesting  her  to  take  her  own  time,  but  to  seek  another 
situation,  in  which  she  would  be  more  worthily  recompensed  for 
her  valuable  services.- 

"When  I  had  given  utterance  to  this  proposal,  it  proved  so  bar- 
barous an  outrage  both  on  my  own  feelings  and  on  poor  Mary's, 
as  almost  to  create  a  scene. 

For  myself,  overpowered  by  conflicting  fears  and  emotions,  I 
nearly  fainted. 

Mary,  more  heroic  or  less  responsible,  though  she  wept, 
declined,  with  great  modesty  but  with  immovable  firmness,  my 
proposal  to  part  with  her.  It  was  useless  to  remonstrate ;  she  had 
determined,  she  said,  never  to  leave  me  until  the  wheel  of  for- 
tune came  round ;  and  of  this  she  was  so  sure,  that  with  genuine 
credulity,  which  often  assumes  the  character  of  prescience,  she 
perpetually  told  her  dreams  and  accumulated  omens  to  cheer  my 
spirits  and  convert  me  to  her  faith.  It  would  have  been  an 
insult  to  urge  any  further,  on  so  generous  a  creature,  a  point  of 
interest. 

I  therefore  forbore  to  do  so ;  and  constructed  my  plans  for  {he 
future  upon  the  certainty  of  her  remaining  with  me. 

The  daily  education  of  the  children  became  henceforth  an 
absorbing  occupation  for  me;  while  Mary  took  upon  her  the 
whole  management  and  labour  of  household  affairs.  The  sum 
on  which  we  were  all  to  be  subsisted  was  so  limited,  that  only 
the  extremest  frugality  could  enable  me  to  live  without  debts. 

"We  reduced  ourselves  to  the  coarsest  fare,  which,  though  at 
first  a  great  trial,  and  often  productive  of  languor  and  suffering, 
was  persevered  in  until  the  difficulty  was  conquered;  and  my 
children  became  such  little  philosophers  as  to  be  almost  per 


JESUIT    EXKCUTORSHIP.  195 

suaded  that  pain  was  no  evil,  or  at  least,  that  the  pleasure  of 
conquering  themselves  was  greater  than  the  pain  attending  the 
conflict.  My  heart  tasted  again  of  pleasure  as  I  discerned  the 
development  of  their  faculties,  and  saw  principles  taking  root  in 
their  hearts  which  I  considered  more  valuable  than  an  inheri- 
tance. Stripped  as  they  were  of  what  should  have  been  their 
hereditary  possessions,  I  persuaded  myself  that  I  was  placing 
within  their  reach  a  species  of  wealth  far  more  their  own,  and 
less  accessible  to  the  accidents  of  fortune,  than  that  which  they 
had  lost,  when  I  taught  them  experimentally  that  internal  power 
over  themselves,  which  is  the  most  precious  of  all  attainments. 

I  found  the  instruction  of  my  children  a  labour  of  infinite 
rewards ;  and  could  I  have  made  any  provision  for  them  that 
would  have  survived  myself,  I  should  now  have  enjoyed  content, 
in  spite  of  the  meanness  of  my  condition.  But  to  know  that  if 
I  were  removed,  my  dear  and  innocent  children  might  sink  down 
to  companionship  with  the  paupers  of  the  land,  was  a  contin- 
gency I  could  not  endure  to  look  on ;  and  yet  it  was  ever  in  my 
thoughts.  It  was  thus  I  was  perpetually  haunted  with  anxie- 
ties ;  and  while  cherishing  and  recording  my  griefs,  my  unregis- 
tered joys  took  flight  and  were  forgotten. 

But  all  is  not  bitterness  even  in  poverty ;  there  are  sources  of 
pleasure  over  which  it  has  no  empire,  else  were  its  iron  hand  as 
deadly  to  the  soul  as  to  the  sense.  The  companions  of  my 
retreat  never  failed  me,  whether  I  speak  of  the  little  circle  that 
formed  my  domestic  society,  or  of  the  philosophers  and  poets 
that  graced  my  rustic  shelves.  Nevertheless,  when,  after 
another  year  of  pecuniary  experiment — of  laborious  exertion  and 
life-destroying  privations — I  found  myself  again  in  debt,*I  was 
plunged  into  despair. 

I  found,  upon  looking  into  my  affairs,  that  I  could  no  longer 
retain  even  my  little  cottage  ;  and  the  two  years  of  experiment 
which  I  had  made  in  the  education  of  my  daughters  convinced 
me  that,  in  a  place  so  remote  from  masters,  it  would  be  impossi- 
ble to  give  them  those  accomplishments,  even  had  my  income 
been  adequate  to  doing  so,  which  were  necessary  to  prepare 
them  for  their  future  lot  in  life.  It  was  impossible  that  I  could 
make  any  additional  retrenchment  where  I  was,  without  endan- 


196  HELEN  MULGRAVK;  OR, 

gering  the  health  of  my  family.  It  therefore  became  a  matter 
of  necessity  that  we  should  remove  to  some  less  expcii-ivr 
locality.  But  whither?  Ah!  what  a  dreadful  question  is  this 
for  any  human  being  who  has  no  pecuniary  resource  adequate 
to  his  wants ! 

Had  I  possessed  at  this  time  any  industrial  art  by  which  I 
could  honestly  have  gained  money,  I  should  have  blessed  the 
hour  that  disclosed  it,  whatever  effort  it  had  exacted  of  me. 
But  of  any  tiling  of  this  sort  I  was  as  ignorant  as  my  children 
themselves. 

In  this  moment  of  extreme  anxiety  I  received  a  communica- 
tion from  the  executors,  reminding  me  that  my  son  was  nearly 
five  years  of  age,  and  that  the  day  was  close  at  hand  when  it 
would  be  necessary  to  remove  him  from  my  protection,  in  pursu- 
ance of  his  father's  will.  '  It  was  their  intention,'  they  added, 
*  to  place  him  at  once  in  the  Irish  College  at  Paris,  where  he 
would  receive  an  education  suitable  to  the  church  in  which  he 
was  born,  and  to  his  future  prospects  in  life.' 

The  sword  which  had  so  long  been  suspended  over  me,  had 
then,  at  last,  fallen  ! 

That  I  survived  this  shock  was,  perhaps,  owing  to  a  sudden 
thought,  which,  after  some  moments  of  agony,  darted  into  my 
brain,  and  which  was  nothing  less  than  that  I  would  follow  my 
child  to  Paris !  Could  any  mother  do  less  than  this  for  her  only 
son,  and  the  heir  of  her  house  ?  But  how  accomplish  such  a 
purpose  ?  The  unavoidable  expense  of  the  experiment  seemed 
at  the  first  glance  insuperable,  as  it  would  be  impossible  to 
create  adequate  funds,  but  by  sacrifices  so  great  as  to  absorb 
everything  of  disposable  value  which  remained  to  me ;  leaving 
no  resource  for  any  future  emergency,  how  urgent  soever  it 
might  prove. 

But  to  watch  over  my  child,  and  occasionally  to  see  him, 
though  bereft  of  all  power  to  serve  him,  was  surely  an  object 
of  sufficient  importance,  not  only  to  him  but  to  his  sisters  to 
justify  the  sacrifice  of  every  hoarded  superfluity. 

Deliberate  thought,  it  is  true,  showed  me  the  perilousness  of 
thus  transporting  myself  and  daughters  to  &  foreign  land ;  but 
though  I  shuddered  in  contemplating  the  experiment,  I  did  not 


JESUIT   EXECUTOR8HIP.  197 

abandon  it.  There  had  once,  indeed,  been  sentiments  associated 
with  France  which  made  its  very  name  dear  to  me ;  but  these 
had  been  effaced  by  the  tears  of  many  years,  and  I  now  only 
thought  of  it  as  the  place  which  would  henceforth  contain  my 
son.  I  should  be  an  alien  in  Paris,  and  my  lot  would  thus  be 
cast  among  strangers.  But  what  mattered  it?  "Was  I  not  a 
stranger  in  my  own  land,  and  is  not  '  the  poor  man,'  every- 
where, '  separated  from  his  neighbour  ?' 

I  had,  it  is  true,  one  relative  in  Paris ;  but  it  was  not  very 
likely  that  he  would  recognise  me  in  the  lowliness  of  my  present 
condition.  Yet  there  was  a  feeling  of  security  in  knowing  that 
one  of  my  own  blood  would  be  near  me,  though  I  must  never 
approach  him. 

*****  * 

When,  at  length,  my  child  had  been  actually  wrenched  from 
me,  I  reasoned,  I  hesitated  no  more ;  and  every  lion  that  had 
hitherto  been  in  my  way,  disappeared  before  the  impetuous 
impulse  with  which,  sleeping  and  waking,  my  heart  followed 
him,  and  I  entered  upon  my  preparations  for  departure  with  a 
sort  of  desperate  energy. 

But  although  every  impediment  seemed  thus  removed  by  the 
ardour  of  my  own  purpose,  there  was  still  one,  which  though 
last  considered,  had  ever  been  first  in  my  heart — viz.,  the  una- 
voidable dismissal  of  my  excellent  Mary.  Not  to  wound  her 
unnecessarily,  I  made  her  the  confidant  and  the  judge,  both  of 
my  embarrassments  and  my  projects ;  and  as  her  feelings  were 
almost  as  deeply  interested  in  the  welfare  of  my  children  as  my 
own,  she  perfectly  acquiesced  in  the  decision  I  had  formed ;  and 
to  lessen  my  anxiety  at  the  responsibility  incurred  by  it,  she 
reminded  me  of  all  the  possible  advantages  which  might  arise 
from  our  removal ;  and  in  her  quiet  modest  way,  enumerated 
the  benefits  that  must  accrue  to  my  daughters  from  an  education 
in  Paris. 

She  had-  already  spent  all  her  earnings  in  my  service,  or 
nothing  could  have  deterred  her  from  accompanying  us,  at  "her 
own  cost.  As  it  was,  this  proof  of  her  attachment  was  imprac- 
ticable, and  she  buried  her  regrets  in  her  own  heart  in  silence, 
that  she  might  not  augment  mine. 


198  UELEN    MULGRATE  |    OR, 

It  was  not  until  I  had  sold  both  my  furniture  and  plate,  that  I 
found  it  would  be  necessary  also  to  dispose  of  the  jewelry  and 
trinkets  that  still  remained  to  me.  After  these  steps  had  been 
taken,  it  was  too  late  to  retreat.  But  when  I  found  that  every- 
thing I  possessed  had  been  actually  disposed  of,  and  no  reserve 
made  for  any  of  the  contingencies  of  a  perilous  experiment,  fears 
and  misgivings  began  again  to  haunt  my  pillow,  and  phantoms 
of  distress  to  people  my  dreams.  I  found  it  necessary  to  call  up 
in  review  every  encouraging  circumstance  that  might  enable  me 
to  sustain  the  responsibility  I  had  imposed  on  myself.  If  I  asked 
the  opinion  of  others,  it  was  in  the  hope  they  would  applaud 
my  project,  rather  than  remind  me  of  the  possibility  of  its 
failure — for  on  this  I  dared  not  trust  myself  to  think. 

I  was  quitting  my  own  dear  native  land,  and  my  family  con- 
nexions. But  what  were  my  connexions  to  me  ? — me !  whom 
as  a  heretic  they  had  cast  away  as  a  withered  branch  from  my 
family  tree,  and  whose  very  existence  many  of  them  seemed  to 
have  forgotten.  On  the  Continent  I  had  a  mother  and  sister ; 
and  though,  like  me,  they  were  fettered  by  the  iron  hand  of 
poverty,  yet,  by  lessening  the  distance  between  us,  was  I  not 
rendering  it  possible  for  me  to  meet  them  once  more  on  earth  ? 
My  two  bachelor  uncles  were  men  of  fortune,  who,  though  they 
had  yet  shown  no  kindness  to  me,  and  very  little  to  my  mother 
and  sister  since  my  father's  death,  might,  perchance,  bestow 
on  my  sweet  and  blooming  children  that  recognition  from 
which  my  humiliations  had  debarred  myself. 

It  was  thus  I  endeavoured  to  fortify  my  courage,  and  keep 
alive  hopes  of  success,  which  fluctuated  with  every  varying  huo 
of  a  changing  sky. 

Until  my  child  had  actually  been  transported  to  Paris,  I 
thought  it  not  prudent  to  suffer  my  intention  of  following  him 
thither  to  transpire.  I  have  reason,  therefore,  to  believe  that 
the  Jesuit  was  taken  by  surprise  when  I  wrote  a  note  to  apprize 
him  of  it,  and  to  request  an  introduction  to  the  Governor  of  the 
College,  in  proof  of  my  identity,  that  I  might  occasionally  be 
admitted  to  see  my  child,  and  satisfy  myself  of  his  welfare. 
The  Jesuit's  reply  was,  perhaps,  such  as  I  ought  to  have 
expected,  but  I  was  not  prepared  for  the  full  extent  of  its  bar- 


JE6UIT   EiECUTOHSHIF.  199 

barity.  lie  called  on  me,  and  coolly  told  me,  that  knowing  tlie 
passionate  fondness  of  my  maternal  feelings,  he  had  deemed  it 
necessary  to  provide  for  the  child's  future  welfare  by  placing  an 
effectual  barrier  to  my  intercourse  with  him,  except  by  letter. 
.  He  presumed  not,  he  said,  to  suggest  any  advice  respecting 
my  own  movements ;  although,  as  one  of  my  husband's  execu- 
tors, he  could  not  but  desire  to  see  me  sustain  a  deportment 
suitable  to  my  own  superior  character,  and  the  dignity  of  my 
family  and  connexions. 

I  made  him  no  reply ;  and,  seeing  me  thus  inflexible  to  his 
admonitions,  he  quitted  me  abruptly. 

Instantly  after  his  departure,  I  wrote  to  a  maternal  relative, 
whose  ancestors  had,  some  sixty  years  since,  given  large  bequests 
to  the  Irish  College  in  Paris,  in" virtue  of  which  their  descendants 
were  entitled  to  certain  privileges  in  their  admission  to  it.  My 
son  was,  of  course,  one  of  those  descendants ;  and  I  hoped  to 
learn  that  this  fact  might  obtain  for  me  the  desired  occasional 
interview  with  him. 

My  relative  replied,  that  as  a  parent  himself,  he  could  well 
understand  a  parent's  feelings  for  so  young  a  child.  But  he 
feared  that  my  secession  from  the  Eomish  church  might  prove 
an  insurmountable  barrier  to  the  indulgence  sought ;  especially 
as  it  would  be,  if  granted,  a  violation  of  the  condition  imposed 
on  the  college  by  the  executors. 

Nevertheless,'  he  added,  '  I  will  furnish  you  with  a  letter  of 
identity,  which  may  do  something  for  you,  and  if  you  be  able  to 
get  it  signed  also  by  your  two  maternal  uncles,  the  baron  at 
Vienna  and  the  count  at  Paris,  you  may  possibly  obtain  your 
object,  although  perhaps  under  stringent  conditions.' 

As  I  knew  the  influence  which  my  two  uncles  on  the  Contin- 
ent possessed  with  the  officials  of  the  college,  I  thought  myself 
now  in  possession  'of  a  document  that  might  counteract  the  influ- 
ence of  the  Jesuit. 

I  therefore  entered,  with  something  like  hope,  upon  my  final 
arrangements  for  my  journey,  in  a  small  and  wretched  apart- 
ment in  the  town  of  ,  my  cottage  having  been  resigned  to 

another  tenant.     Let  not  my  reader  suppose  that,  while  I  was 
taking  ponusol  of  myself  and  my  few  friends,  I  omitted  to  ask 


200  HELEN    MULGBAVK  |    OR, 

counsel  of  God.  To  what  purpose  are  our  efforts  to  learn  and 
to  do  his  will,  if  we  seek  not  his  divine  aid,  and  obtain  not  of 
him  by  supplication,  that  inspiration,  so  uudefinable,  so  imper- 
ceptible, yet  so  certain,  that,  like  the  dew  on  the  grass,  it  ferti- 
lizes and  sustains  the  tender  blade,  which  yet  exhibits  no  recog- 
nisable proof  of  its  influence. 

The  expenses  incurred  in  the  lodging  which  I  occupied  had 
not  been  foreseen,  and  were  therefore  not  included  in  my  esti- 
mates ;  and  as  I  was  unexpectedly  detained  here  a  fortnight,  I 
had  reason  to  fear  that  this  drain  on  the  little  fund  provided  for 
my  adventurous  journey,  might  hereafter  prove  a  serious  incon- 
venience to  me.  But  there  was  no  avoiding  this  expense,  or 
many  others  not  foreseen.  Postage  at  this  time  was  a  formidable 
cost  to  the  poor ;  and  those  to  wiiom  I  had  occasion  to  write, 
had  no  idea  that  the  cost  of  a  letter  could  be  an  amount  not 
only  to  inconvenience,  but  to  embarrass  me. 

A  day  or  two  before  our  departure,  I  visited  with  my  children 
the  graves  of  our  household.  I  had  been  obliged  to  leave  those 
of  Father  Ossory  and  my  infant  children  without  a  memorial  to 
indicate  their  locality  ;  but  how  gratifying  soever  it  would  have 
been  to  me  to  erect  such  memorials,  it  would  in  my  circum- 
stances have  been  a  robbery  of  the  living  for  the  dead.  With- 
out the  indication  of  a  tomb-stone,  however,  we  found  both 
graves  sufficiently  marked  and  defended,  by  the  groups  of  flowers 
growing  on  them,  of  which  the  children  gathered  a  large  nose- 
gay from  the  infants'  grave,  to  strew  on  the  tomb  of  their 
father.  Precious  children!  In  the  filial  sentiments  they 
cherished  for  him,  of  whom  they  knew  nothing,  they  were  at 
once  dutiful  and  happy.  The  humble  grave  of  the  infants,  and 
the  splendid  tombs  of  their  father  and  uncle,  were  some  miles 
apart;  but  we  accomplished  a  visit  to  each.  Although  I  had 
visited  the  latter,  from  a  feeling  that  it  was  a  due  which  I  owed 
to  the  dead,  previous  to  what  might  prove  a  final  banishment 
form  my  country,  I  suffered  so  much  in  the  fulfilment  of  it,  from 
the  retrospects  which  it  naturally  awakened,  that  I  regretted  the 
infliction  I  had  imposed  on  myself. 

It  was  not  grief  or  tenderness  that  filled  my  soul,  but  a  chaos 
of  thoughts,  appalling  as  the  spectres  of  the  dead,  and  revolting 


JESUIT   EXECUTOR8HIP.  201 

to  every  instinct  of  my  nature.  Alas !  I  fear  they  were  but 
impulses  of  resentment,  and  that  I  was  not  yet  subdued  to  resig- 
nation. But  nothing  creates  so  much  bitterness  of  heart  as  a 
long  continued  and  unsuccessful  struggle  with  the  difficulties  of 
a  position  into  which  we  have  been  impelled  by  the  coercion  of 
authority. 

As  I  meditated  over  my  uncle's  ashes,  now  harmless  as  the 
dust  under  my  feet,  I  gazed  around  for  some  attesting  relic  of 
that  resistless  power  which  had  wrenched  me  from  the  fairest 
prospects  and  the  dearest  ties,  to  hurl  me  into  an  abyss  of 
misery !  But  it  was  nowhere  recognisable,  except  in  the  debase- 
ment of  my  own  condition.  I  had  passed,  as  had  been  scorn- 
fully foreshadowed,  '  from  the  palace  to  the  hovel,'  spite  of  the 
costly  sacrifice  which  had  been  made  at  my  own  expense  to 
avert  such  a  fate!  Now,  the  arbiter  of  my  destiny  lay  in 
nothingness,  within  the  marble  that  enshrined  him,  unconscious 
alike  of  himself  and  of  her  whose  feelings  of  grief  and  destitu- 
tion were  wild  enough  to  evoke  compassion  from  the  senseless 
tenant  of  his  tomb. 

If  I  felt  bitterly,  as  I  hung  over  that  tomb,  it  was  that  my  sor- 
rows traced  themselves  to  him  as  their  source,  and  my  shudder- 
ing fear  of  the  future  was  at  that  moment  stronger  than  reason, 
for  I  was  not  fancifully,  but  actually  adrift,  with  two  children, 
on  the  stormy  sea  of  Adventure.  Bound  thus  to  the  unknown, 
and  far-off  port  of  Subsistence,  without  compass  to  guide,  or 
-rudder  to  steer  my  frail  bark,  it  was  already  pitching  about, 
amidst  rocks  on  one  hand  and  shoals  on  the  other ;  while  the 
clouds  and  darkness  that  hung  over  my  horizon  obscured  the 
future  and  bewildered  my  senses. 

I  returned  to  my  lodging  weary  and  sick  at  heart,  and  found 
a  letter  there  from  my  uncle  Sir  Felix,  in  answer  to  a  farewell 
which  I  had  addressed  to  him  and  my  aunt.  It  informed  me 
that  my  aunt  was  suffering  from  a  mortal  disease,  and  was  so  ill 
as  to  require  constant  attendance  both  night  and  day. 

He  added,  that  her  personal  attendants,  as  it  annoyed  her  to 
have  strangers  about  her,  had  been  for  some  time  so  perpetually 
with  her  as  to  be  nearly  worn  out.  As  1  had  been  exerting 
myself  in  vain  in  Ireland,  to  get  Mary  into  a  family  of  distinc- 

9* 


202  HELEN    MULORAVE  ;    OR, 

tion,  I  wrote  to  my  ancle  by  return  of  post,  to  beg  that  he 
would  allow  her  to  come  to  Hanover  Square,  where  I  pledged 
myself  she  would  prove  a  treasure  to  my  aunt. 

My  proposal  was  promptly  assented  to,  and  I  had  the  satisfac- 
tion in  this  arrangement  of  securing  for  Mary  all  that  I  could 
desire,  and  at  the  same  time  of  gratifying  her  affectionate  heart 
by  continuing  her  in  the  family.  She  was  speedily  ready  for 
her  new  undertaking,  but  resolved  on  not  setting  out  for  Lon- 
don, so  long  as  there  was  anything  which  she  could  do  for  us. 
She  therefore  remained  to  assist  our  departure. 

Rover  was  left  in  her  care,  and  my  uncle  had  given  her  per- 
mission to  bring  him  with  her  to  his  house,  together  with  what- 
ever else  I  might  wish  to  entrust  to  his  care. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

AT  length  the  moment  of  departure  arrived ;  but  the  parting 
with  Mary  had  nearly  proved  fatal  to  my  fortitude:  the  affec- 
tionate creature  had  pined  herself  ill  beforehand.  After  we  had 
mounted  the  vehicle  which  was  to  convey  us  away,  she  hung  on 
the  door  of  it,  crying  so  bitterly  that  no  one  had  resolution  to 
remind  her  she  was  detaining  the  carriage.  The  long-patient 
driver  was  at  length  obliged  to  use  gentle  force,  to  disengage  her 
from  her  hold.  We  heard  her  voice  for  many  minutes  after  we 
had  moved  off,  and  saw  her  slender  figure  rivetted  to  the  spot 
where  we  had  left  her,  with  her  hands  in  an  attitude  of  invoca- 
tion, until  a  turn  in  the  road  rendered  her  no  longer  visible. 

I  then  sank  back  in  the  carriage,  almost  annihilated  by  the 
griefs  and  fears  that  came  rushing  on  my  heart  like  a  torrent.  It 
was  in  vain  I  endeavoured  to  throw  them  off;  the  whole  pro- 
ject, at  that  moment,  seemed  like  an  outrage  on  myself,  and  the 
children  still  left,  and  still  so  dear  to  rne.  I  thought  all  was  lost, 
and  that  by  a  presumptuous  stake  of  things  which  should  have 
been  sacred  in  my  eyes,  and  exempt  from  experiment,  I  had  cast 


JESUIT    EXECUTOESHIP.  208 

away  the  last  consolation  of  my  heart — that  of  not  having  been 
the  author  of  my  own  and  my  children's  wretchedness. 

The  enterprise  in  which  I  had  engaged  required  a  sternness 
of  fortitude  that  was  scarcely  in  my  nature.  Yet  now,  at  the 
moment  of  commencing  it,  the  ordinary  courage  of  my  mind 
failed  me.  But  I  was  carried  on,  in  spite  of  myself,  to  plunge 
into  untried  exile. 

Our  first  stage  was  to  Cork,  where  I  parted,  perhaps  for  ever, 
with  my  dear  native  land,  whose  every  grain  of  earth  and  weed 
on  the  highway  became  precious  in  my  eyes  as  I  gazed  on  them 
for  the  last  time.  Ireland — beloved  and  beautiful — farewell! 
Thy  history,  like  mine,  is  but  a  record  of  suffering.  Ob,  when 
will  the  sun  of  happiness  dawn  on  thee  or  on  me ! 

We  reached  Bristol  by  steam.  Everything  in  England  was 
new  to  me ;  but  my  attention  would  not  be  arrested  by  anything 
short  of  my  final  destination,  otherwise  I  could  not  have  gazed 
on  the  scenery  of  the  Avon,  as  we  sailed  up  that  river  to  Clif- 
ton, without  admiration. 

We  went  from  Bristol  to,  Southampton,  and  thence  by  steam 
to  Havre.  The  heavens  certainly  smiled  on  our  landing  in 
France,  and  I  seized  on  this  circumstance  as  a  happy  omen ;  for 
'  trifles  light  as  air'  are  sometimes  ministers  of  hope  or  despair. 

Although  I  had  slept  while  crossing  the  Channel,  I  had  no 
difficulty  in  believing,  when  I  first  beheld  the  quay  and  streets 
of  Havre  from  the  deck  of  the  boat,  that  I  was  looking  on  a 
foreign  land.  Parrots  screaming  at  open  doors  and  windows ; 
gens  cTarmes  stationed  at  every  turn  ;  and  women  moving  about 
the  streets  without  hats  or  bonnets,  in  high  Normandy  caps, 
with  long  lappets,  convinced  me  of  thie  to  demonstration.  I 
had,  nevertheless,  some  difficulty  in  persuading  myself  that 
this  was  France — that  country  once  the  theatre  of  my  youthful 
dreams,  and  the  Arcadia  of  my  imagination. 

Often  as  I  had  seen  it  in  my  mind's  eye,  and  familiar  as  I  had 
fancied  myself  with  its  peculiarities,  a  single  glance  falsified  all 
my  conceptions  of  it,  and  convinced  me  that  no  description  can 
impart  to  the  mind  adequate  and  accurate  ideas  of  a  country  wo 
have  never  seen. 

Havre  did  not  interest  me;  and  having  passed  through  tho 


204  HELEN  MULGRAVE;  OR,  ^ 

formalities  of  the  custom-house  without  impediment,  wo 
embarked  on  the  day  after  our  arrival,  in  the  steamboat  La 
Duehesse  cPAngouUme,  for  Rouen.  Fanned  by  gentle  gales,  and 
Bailing  under  skies  of  benignant  aspect,  everything  around  me 
fostered  the  hope  that  at  least  I  had  not  committed  a  fatal  error 
in  throwing  myself  and  family  on  the  chances  of  a  foreign  land. 

The  scenery  of  the  Seine  is  beyond  description  beautiful  and 
varied,  and  almost  inspired  me  with  a  feeling  of  pleasure.  The 
great  features  of  nature,  like  those  of  man,  are  everywhere  simi- 
lar, and  the  eternity  of  mountains  and  valleys  speaks  to  us  in  a 
language  which  the  soul  can  everywhere  understand,  while  it 
proclaims  truths  which  we  discern  and  reverence. 

The  sympathy  that  exists  between  nature  and  the  soul  is  more 
cordial  than  that  betwixt  man  and  man.  To  this  benign  and 
silent  listener  we  unfold  our  deepest  and  most  passionate  griefs  ; 
and  though  she  answers  not  with  condolences,  she  beholds  our 
tears  without  reproaching  our  weakness,  infuses  peace  into  the 
troubled  breast,  and  when  we  sink  under  our  sorrows,  receives 
us  into  her  bosom,  and  blends  our  being  with  her  own. 

We  reached  Rouen  late  in  the  evening,  and  the  interval  of 
repose  which  during  our  passage  I  had  stolen  from  habitual 
anxiety,  vanished  before  the  crowd  that  rushed  on  board  the 
boat  as  it  reached  the  quay. 

I  encountered  at  Rouen,  as  everywhere  else,  a  thousand  diffi- 
culties and  inconveniences  incident  to  my  inexperience,  my 
poverty,  and  the  unprotectedness  of  my  coud||i0n ;  but  these  I 
pass  over,  as  well  as  the  impertinences,  not  the  smallest  of  my 
trials,  to  which  I  was  exposed  from  the  youthfulness  of  my 
appearance. 

On  the  following  evening  I  pursued  my  journey  to  Paris  by 
diligence,  and  arrived  there  at  mid-day.  Notwithstanding  the 
fatigue  attendant  on  travelling  every  day,  and  the  weariness  of 
my  spirit,  the  beauty  of  the  approach  to  Paris  by  the  Barriere 
de  1'Etoile  could  not  fail  to  arrest  and  absorb,  for  the  moment, 
every  faculty. 

A  refreshing  rain,  which  had  fallen  during  the  night,  had  so 
renovated  both  fields  and  foliage,  that  in  the  morning  they 

Dked  as  fresh  as  in  the  early  spring. 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  205 

Scenes  of  beauty  were  everywhere  around  me ;  but  when, 
after  quitting  Nanterre,  we  were  placed  by  a  sudden  turn  of  the 
road  in  full  view  of  that  imposing  object,  the  Barriere  de 
1'Etoile,  at  the  extremity  of  an  avenue  some  miles  in  length,  my 
admiration  was  unbounded. 

The  vehicle  stopped  as  we  arrived  at  the  barriere  for  the  cus- 
tomary examination ;  it  was  but  the  business  of  an  instant,  and 
then  driving  swiftly  through  the  gateway — we  were  in  Paris. 
Paris !  What  a  thousand  undefinable  thoughts  came  over  me 
as  I  uttered  the  name,  and  first  raised  my  eyes  to  its  domes  and 
steeples,  holding  their  lofty  heads  in  sunbeams.  Not  such  sun- 
beams as  those  even  of  our  dear  little  Emerald  Isle ;  but  bright 
and  golden  rays  unclouded  by  smoke  or  fog.  The  visions  of 
years  were  in  an  instant  realized ;  and  could  I  have  taken  account 
of  myself  at  such  a  moment,  I  had  described  feelings  as  new  as 
the  scenes  before  me. 

Whether  I  gazed  on  the  objects  of  nearer  interest  in  the 
Avenue  de  Neuilly  and  the  Champs  Elysees,  or,  looking 
onwards,  descried  in  the  distance  the  forest  of  trees  which  indi- 
cated the  garden  of  the  Tuileries,  all  was  enchantment.  As  we 
passed  by  the  Place  Louis  Quioze,  other  objects  broke  in  sue-- 
cession  on  my  view  ;  and  the  chamber  of  Deputies,  with  its  con- 
tiguous edifices  on  the  south  of  the  Seine,  were,  as  we  drove 
rapidly  on,  instantly  exchanged  for  a  near  view  of  the  noble 
west  gate  of  entrance  to  the  Tuileries, — the  horses  in  Avhito 
marble  by  whi^jpit  was  at  this  period  surmounted,  wild  with 
animation,  and  almost  leaping  from  their  pedestals,  forming  a 
fine  contrast  to  the  automaton  figures  of  the  Swiss  guards  on 
iduty  below.  It  struck  me  that,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  I 
beheld  city  views  which  more  than  equalled  in  beauty  the  pic- 
tures that  are  made  of  them. 

The  artist,  by  his  command  of  light  and  shade,  and  clear 
atmosphere,  and  cloudless  skies,  often  throws  a  degree  of  beauty 
over  his  delineations  which  destroys  resemblance,  and  excites 
anticipations  that  make  a  mockery  of  truth.  But  here,  the 
original  surpassed  its  fairest  copy,  looking  like  a  land  of  glorious 
dreams.  Ah !  little  know  1  then  how  much  I  was  destined 
both  to  suffer  and  to  enjoy  in  this  region  of  romance  I 


206  HELEN    MULORAVB  ;    OR, 

My  dream  of  delight  was  soon  at  an  end.  We  were  driven 
rapidly  through  the  streets,  and  set  down  in  the  yard  of  the 
Messagerie  Royale.  When  I  found  myself  and  my  little  girls 
surrounded  and  gazed  upon  by  a  crowd  of  strangers,  whose  lan- 
guage, though  I  thought  myself  a  tolerable  French  scholar,  was 
enunciated  with  a  rapidity  that  rendered  it,  at  first,  unintelligi- 
ble to  my  distracted  senses,  I  would  gladly  have  shrunk  away 
out  of  sight. 

And  as,  on  a  hasty  glance  over  the  group  around  us,  I  dis- 
cerned not  a  single  face  that  I  could  recognise,  nor  amongst  the 
many  voices  a  single  tone  of  welcome  to  me,  a  shivering  feeling 
of  fear  came  over  me  that  was  almost  paralysing.  My  children 
looked  anxiously  and  askingly  in  my  face,  as  I  endeavoured  to 
collect  my  thoughts,  and  decide  on  the  locality  to  which  I  should 
direct  my  steps. 

I  was  lost  in  these  thoughts  as  I  stood  by  my  luggage  and 
them,  assailed  by  a  dozen  porters  at  once,  demanding  whither  I 
would  have  the  luggage  carried.  They  endeavoured  to  under- 
stand my  wishes,  but  without  success ;  for  although  I  spoke  to 
them  in  their  own  language,  my  timidity  and  my  foreign  accent 
rendered  me  unintelligible. 

They  then  quarrelled  with  each  other,  and  the  rival  candidates 
for  my  favour  increased  in  number.  I  looked  around  me  in  dis- 
pair,  and  saw  at  a  short  distance,  standing  in  the  yard,  a  respect- 
ably and  somewhat  fashionably  dressed  female,  gazing  on  me 
with  an  intensity  of  look  that  startled  me.  Ba^the  instant  my 
eyes  met  hers,  she  turned  away,  and  my  attention  being  at  the 
moment  diverted,  I  lost  sight  of  her. 

In  the  hope  of  finding  some  one  among  the  clerks  in  the 
coach-office  who  might  be  able  to  speak  to  me  intelligibly,  I 
entered  it,  and  looking  round,  thought  myself  fortunate  in  per- 
ceiving an  Englishman. 

Of  course  I  addressed  myself  to  him  in  preference.  Having 
gained  his  ear,  he  bestowed  on  me,  in  reply,  that  sort  of  super 
cilious,  examining  look  with  which  Englishmen  of  his  class  are 
accustomed  to  greet  a  stranger  of  dubious  rank  who  requests 
their  civilities.  Having  surveyed  me  and  my  children  from  head 
to  foot,  and  I  presume  found  our  exterior  below  his  standard  of 


JESUIT  EXECUTORSHIP.  207 

gentility,  he  answered  my  inquiries  in  a  vague  and  negligent 
manner,  so  as  to  afford  me  no  assistance  whatever.  Meanwhile, 
one  of  the  French  clerks,  who  had  been  attending  to  what  was 
passing,  politely  addressed  me,  and  inquired  of  what  I  wished 
to  be  informed. 

I  made  him  understand,  and  he  instantly  desired  a  porter  to 
lift  my  luggage  into  the  office ;  and  having  superintended  the 
placing  of  it,  told  me  that  it  should  be  taken  care  of  until  I  sent 
for  it.  The  Englishman,  unabashed  by  the  reproof  which  had 
been  given  him  in  the  Frenchman's  superior  courtesy,  smiled 
affectedly,  and  went  on  with  his  business  of  the  quill. 

I  then  left  the  coach- yard,  and  trod  for  the  first  time  the 
streets  of  Paris.  I  was  in  possession  of  the  address  of  but  one 
person  in  Paris  besides  my  uncle ;  and  to  the  residence  of  this 
person  I  now  anxiously  made  my  way,  hoping  that,  as  she  was 
in  an  humble  rank  of  life,  she  might  be  induced  to  accommodate 
me  and  my  children,  at  least  for  the  moment.  I  had  obtained 
dire'ctions  to  find  the  street  of  her  residence  from  the  obliging 
clerk  of  the  coach-office.  It  was  at  a  considerable  distance 
from  the  Rue  Notre  Dame,  in  which  we  had  been  set  down,  but 
having  purchased  a  map  of  Paris  on  my  way,  I  had  little  diffi- 
culty in  finding  it. 

Having  done  so,  however,  my  distress  was  indescribable  on 
finding  the  person  I  sought  absent  from  home,  and  not  expected 
to  return  for  several  months.  It  would  have  been  madness  for 
me  to  incur  the  expenses  of  a  public  hotel ;  and  it  was  impossi- 
ble that  I  could  present  myself  and  family,  uninvited  and 
unknown,  at  the  h6tel  of  my  uncle,  the  Count  de  Oarryfort,  who 
belonged  to  a  class  in  society  which  admitted  not  of  such  a 
freedom. 

I  clasped  my  hands  in  bitter  agony,  as  I  turned  from  the  por- 
ter's lodge  of  the  house  in  which  I  had  sought,  and  hoped  to 
have  found  shelter. 

"We  had  been  travelling  the  preceding  night,  and  for  many 
days  had  been  irregularly  supplied  with  meals,  and  my  children 
looked  wretchedly  pale  and  ill.  "We  were  in  the  Rue  St. 
IIonor6,  near  the  Rue  Royale.  The  shops  of  the  restaurateurs 
and  confectioners  presented  their  inviting  viands  at  the  win- 


208  HELEN    MULGRAVE  ;    OR, 

dows ;  but  I  dared  not  enter  them,  as  I  had  no  money  to  spare, 
although  the  looks  with  which  my  children  surveyed  them 
touched  me  to  the  heart.  A  few  biscuits  was  all  I  could  afford 
them.  For  myself,  I  could  not  eat  a  morsel ;  a  corroding 
sense  of  anxiety  had  taken  possession  of  me,  which  superseded 
hunger. 

The  day,  which  in  September  is  not  long,  was  wearing  fast 
away,  and  what  might  become  of  us,  should  night  come  on 
before  we  had  found  an  asylum,  was  a  question  which  I  asked 
with  such  vehemence  of  terror  as  frightened  my  children,  and 
caused  the  elder,  who  was  old  enough  to  feel  something  of  its 
import,  to  burst  into  a  fit  of  crying,  that  increased  my  own  dis- 
tress. I  knew  not  which  way  to  turn  in  the  street,  but  was 
obliged  to  move  on,  as  our  appearance  attracted  attention  from 
the  passers  by ;  and  a  crowd  was  forming  round  us  just  as  we 
approached  the  church  of  the  '  Assomption.'  Its  doors  were 
open,  and  terrified  to  an  excessive  degree,  I  took  refuge  in  it  with 
my  children. 

As  I  approached  into  the  interior  of  the  building,  I  observed 
a  few  humble  worshippers  devoutly  kneeling  on  the  pavement. 

The  sight  of  them  inspired  a  feeling  of  devotion  in  my  own 
heart  that  was  irrepressible.  They,  like  me,  were  perhaps  in 
sorrow,  and  '  had  no  comforter ;'  but,  '  God  is  no  respecter  of 
persons,'  and  he  is  everywhere  '  waiting  to  be  gracious.'  Their 
garb,  denoting  even  greater  poverty  than  mine,  awakened  sym- 
pathy in  my  heart,  and  quieted  the  murmurs  of  my  spirit.  I 
retired  to  a  deep  recess,  and  prostrating  myself  on  the  floor  with 
my  children,  poured  out  the  sorrows  of  my  heart  in  a  torrent  of 
tears  and  supplication. 

Happiest  of  all  human  privileges  is  that,  which  in  the  day  of 
trouble  permits  us  to  call  upon  God ! 

I  left  the  church  with  a  composure  of  mind,  which  I  have 
always  found  to  succeed  sincere  and  fervent  devotion.  As  my 
children  and  I  descended  the  steps,  I  observed  the  same  female 
whom  I  had  seen  in  the  cour  of  the  Messagerie,  and  again  her 
gaze  was  fixed  on  me.  I  returned  her  look ;  and  thought,  as  I 
examined  her  features,  there  \vas  something  Irish  about  them. 

Occupied,  however,  with  my  own  feelings,   I  was  turning 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  209 

from  her,  when  she  abruptly  approached  me,  and  uttered  my 
name. 

My  surprise  was  very  great,  as  I  was  sure  she  was  a  stranger 
to  me.  But  in  such  a  moment  of  isolation,  only  to  hear  my 
name  uttered  was  a  circumstance  to  cause  emotion.  The  reflec- 
tion of  an  instant  caused  me  to  recoil,  until  the  stranger  men- 
tioned the  name  of  one  of  my  Dublin  relatives,  and  informed  me 
at  the  same  time,  that  she  was  acquainted  with  him.  The  pre- 
occupied state  of  my  mind  prevented  me  from  discerning  at  the 
moment  the  extreme  singularity  of  this  rencontre,  and  the 
seeming  interest  of  a  stranger  in  my  concerns. 

Miss  Murphy,  for  that  was  her  name,  nothing  revolted  by  my 
shrinking  manner,  inquired  if  I  had  engaged  lodgings ;  to  which 
I  replied  that  I  had  not,  and  that  I  should  be  much  obliged  to 
her  if  she  could  recommend  me  to  any  that  were  suitable  for 
me.  Miss  Murphy  appeared  to  ponder  for  a  moment  on  njy 
request,  and  then,  with  an  air  of  hesitation,  said, — 'Perhaps  rny 
mother  might  be  able  to  recommend  you  to  some  place.  Our 
residence  is  not  far  distant,  and  if  you  will  favour  me  with  your 
company  thither,  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  introduce  you  to  her. 
You  will  find  her  a  countrywoman  of  your  own.' 

As  we  passed  along,  I  learned  that  she  was  acquainted  with 
the  whole  history  of  my  family ;  and  through  her  correspond- 
ence with  Ireland,  as  she  said,  she  had  been  apprized  of  every- 
thing that  had  befallen  myself. 

She  was  making  an  attempt  at  condolence  when  we  stopped 
at  the  gate  of  an  hotel  in  the  Rue  St.  Florentin.  She  conducted 
us  through  a  gloomy  court-yard,  and  up  a  staircase  equally 
gloomy,  of  which  I  thought  I  should  never  reach  the  top.  The 
exertion  was  so  painful  to  me,  that  I  was  obliged  repeatedly  to 
stop  and  take  breath,  while  the  children  were  amusing  them- 
selves with  pointing  out  to  each  other  the  cobwebs  and  dirt  on 
the  walls  and  stairs.  We  at  length  stopped  at  a  little  low  door, 
on  the  fifth  story.  It  was  opened  at  the  ring  of  a  bell,  and 
passing  through  a  small  antechamber,  we  were  carried  through 
a  suite  of  three  or  four  rooms,  very  showily  furnished.  We  were 
requested  to  seat  ourselves  in  the  last,  and  Miss  Murphy  left  us 
alone — when,  casting  m'y  eyes  on  a  brilliant  clock  on  the  man- 


210  HELE5    MULGBAVE  ;    OB, 

tel-piece,  I  perceived  that  it  was  already  four  o'clock,  and  as 
there  were  only  two  more  hours  of  daylight,  my  impatience  for 
the  return  of  my  conductress  became  extreme.  She  re-appear- 
ed, with  her  mother  on  her  arm. 

Mrs.  Murphy  was  a  tall  woman,  about  sixty  years  of  age,  with 
a  daring,  haughty  countenance,  and  an  imperious  carriage,  that 
bestowed  something  of  dignity  on  mean  and  negligent  attire. 
She  approached  me  with  an  air  of  graciousness,  as  if  it  were  her 
object  to  conciliate  me  ;  while  a  look  of  rude  scrutiny,  from  a 
pair  of  prominent  black  eyes,  made  me  quail  before  her. 

I  checked  my  rising  repugnance,  and  addressed  to  her  the 
same  inquiry  as  that  which  I  had  already  addressed  to  her 
daughter. 

Without  replying  to  me,  she  continued  surveying  me  and  my 
children,  with  so  sinister  and  calculating  an  expression  of  coun- 
tenance, that  it  was  a  relief  to  me  when  she  proposed  retiring 
to  consult  her  daughter. 

They  withdrew  together,  and  I  was  again  left  to  survey  the 
apartment,  and  form  vague  surmises  respecting  the  apparent 
incongruity  betwixt  it  and  its  occupants.  • 

During  their  absence,  my  anxiety  respecting  where  we  were 
to  find  shelter  for  the  night  again  returned  in  all  its  agony,  and 
I  felt  a  momentary  wish  to  remain  where  we  were;  yet  dreaded 
lest  they  should  propose  it,  for  a  strong  and  singular  repugnance 
to  both  mother  and  daughter  had  taken  possession  of  me.  They 
were  aware  of  my  reduced  circumstances,  and  had  mentioned 
that  they  personally  knew  the  Count  de  Carryfort.  All  this  was 
very'unaccountable  to  me ;  and,  while  I  was  bewildering  myself 
with  conjectures,  they  returned  with  smiling  faces,  and,  with  au 
air  of  doing  me  a  great  favour,  proposed  that  I  should  remain 
with  them,  until  I  could  be  more  suitably  accommodated.  I  had 
but  a  moment  to  decide, — for  hesitation,  I  clearly  saw,  would  be 
an  offence,  and  the  thought,  where  else  shall  I  find  a  shelter  for 
the  night  ?  induced  me  to  accept  this  offer  with  as  much  cour- 
tesy as  I  could  command. 

They  took  care  to  remark,  that  although  they  were  on  the 
fifth  story,  there  was  still  a  floor  betwixt  them  and  the  roof,  and 
that  in  Paris  the  higher  stories  were  considered  more  healthy, 


JK8UIT   EXECUTOR6HIP.  211 

and  quite  as  genteel  as  the  lower.  This  remark  did  not  interest 
me,  or  I  should  have  smiled  at  its  attempt  to  dupe  me.  I  felt  an 
almost  invincible  repugnance,  without  being  able  to  account  for 
it,  to  becoming  an  inmate  with  Mrs.  Murphy  and  her  daughter. 
But  my  situation  admitted  not  of  the  indulgence  of  fastidious 
feeling;  it  was  a  case  of  necessity,  which  abrogated  even  the 
ordinary  laws  of  prudence ;  and  having  once  made  up  my  mind 
to  it,  I  dismissed  all  my  fears,  in  commending  myself  to  Divino 
protection. 

Mrs.  Murphy  had  proposed  terms  which  I  could  not  object  to. 
They  were,  indeed,  much  lower  than  I  had  expected,  though 
still  not  low  enough  for  my  limited  resources. 

A  porter  was  speedily  despatched  for  my  luggage,  and  at  six 
o'clock  we  were  summoned  to  dinner.  As  this  was  my  first 
introduction  to  domestic  life  in  Paris,  and  I  was  utterly  unac- 
quainted with  the  usages  of  any  class  of  its  inhabitants,  I 
paid  some  attention  to  the  quality  and  arrangement  of  the 
dinner. 

It  was  composed  of  very  inferior  and  ill-cooked  food,  served 
with  an  affectation  of  ceremony  that  to  me  seemed  ludicrous ; 
as  did  also  the  now  gaudy  apparel  of  the  mother  and  daughter, 
from  whom  I  eagerly  escaped,  as  soon  as  propriety  would  allow 
me,  to  the  chamber  appropriated  to  my  use. 

Had  I  been  less  absorbed  in  serious  cares,  I  should  have  found 
this  chamber  dreary  and  comfortless  in  the  extreme.  It  was  a 
large  room,  and  the  discoloured  walls  and  ceiling,  from  which 
hung  cobwebs  of  all  lengths  and  breadths,  implied  that  it  must 
have  been  unoccupied  many  months,  if  not  years.  A  small  case- 
ment window,  so  thick  with  accumulated  dust  as  to  render  a 
blind  superfluous,  and  a  dark  and  dirty  floor,  that  seemed  not  to 
have  been  either  washed  or  polished  for  years,  presented  a  strik- 
ing contrast  to  the  glittering  furniture  that  I  had  observed  in  the 
salons. 

I  became  gloomily  perplexed  by  the  strangeness  and  want  of 
congruity  that  evidently  reigned  throughout  the  establishment. 

But  as  yet  I  knew  not  what  to  ascribe  to  local  peculiarity,  and 
what  to  individual  taste.  A  few  weeks  explained  some  of  the 
mysteries  of  the  place.  I  had  long  been  accustomed  to  the  com- 


212  HELKN   MILOKAVK;  OH, 

fortlessness  of  poverty,  or  the  wretched  beds  destined  to  our 
use  would  have  produced  anything  but  repose. 

But  we  were  all  to  weary  to  be  sensible  of  our  privations ;  and 
our  sleep  for  the  first  night,  at  least,  was  sweet. 

On  the  following  day,  by  bringing  into  use  a  few  articles 
which  I  had  brought  from  home,  I  was  enabled  to  improve  our 
accommodations. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

I  WAS  now,  then,  at  last  in  Paris,  and  for  the  moment  in  suffi- 
cient quiet  to  take  a  survey  of  my  position,  my  resources,  and 
my  principal  object  in  coming  there,  and  I  lost  neither  time  nor 
effort  in  endeavouring  to  expedite  its  attainment. 

As  I  had  provided  myself  with  vouchers  to  attest  my  iden- 
tity, and  substantiate  the  'claims  of  my  family  on  the  college,  I 
wanted  but  the  signatures  of  my  two  uncles  to  render  them  per- 
fectly presentable. 

For  that  of  the  Count  de  Carryfort,  it  was  necessary  that  I 
should  apply  in  person.  Not  to  alarm  him  by  an  abrupt  intru- 
sion, I  addressed  a  note  to  him,  informing  him  of  my  intended 
visit,  and  the  object  of  it.  Although  I  had  every  imaginable 
claim  on  my  uncle,  and  nothing  had  ever  occurred  to  produce 
alienation  betwixt  us,  my  note  was  answered  with  a  coldness  bor- 
dering on  incivility.  All  recognition  of  our  relationship  was 
carefully  avoided,  and  my  request  for  his  signature  granted  only 
on  condition  that  I  should  not  importune  him  for  anything  more. 

My  heart  swelled  with  emotion  on  the  first  reading  of  this 
note  in  a  foreign  land,  but  my  indignation  was  transient,  and  I 
quickly  sank  into  that  submission  which  long  continued  suffering 
and  repeated  disappointment  had  rendered  almost  habitual.  I 
had  not  now  to  learn  that  the  mere  want  of  assistance  is  insuffi- 
cient to  obtain  it.  Nevertheless,  my  uncle's  nnkindness  deprived 
me  of  one  of  the  few  remaining  resources  on  which  my  mind, 
in  speculating  on  future  disasters,  had  been  wont  to  rest. 


JESUIT    EXKCUTORSHIP.  213 

I  .accepted  his  signature  to  my  Irish  testimonial  on  the  condi- 
tion prescribed,  without  being  admitted  to  an  interview  with 
him,  and  was  thus  prevented  from  making  such  inquiries 
respecting  the  Murphys  as  he  could  only  have  satisfied,  since  I 
knew  no  other  person  in  Paris  to  whom  they  were  known — if 
indeed  they  were  known  to  him,  a  point  which  must  now 
remain  in  doubt. 

Before  I  could  proceed  a  step  further  in  obtaining  access  to 
the  college,  I  was  obliged  to  apply  to  the  Murphys  for  such  infor- 
mation as  only  a  resident  well  acquainted  with  Paris  could  fur- 
nish. I  thus  unavoidably  revealed  to  them  my  anxiety  respect- 
ing my  son,  which  it  had  been  better  to  conceal ;  although 
indeed  I  soon  found  that  every  attempt  at  concealing  my  per- 
sonal circumstances  and  anxieties  was  utterly  useless,  as,  by  some 
unaccountable  means,  they  obtained  information  of  the  precise 
posture  of  my  affairs,  and  appeared  to  know  almost  every 
intended  movement  and  project  of  my  thoughts.  Yet  I  could 
never  discover  that  my  locks  had  been  forced,  or  that  any  of  my 
papers  were  missing.  I  had  written  to  my  uncle  at  Vienna,  and, 
through  my  dear  mother's  interposition,  had  obtained  from  him 
an  attested  document,  in  aid  of  that  which  I  had  brought  from 
Ireland,  and  was  then  enabled  by  the  assistance  of  the  Murphys, 
which  I  afterwards  found  to  be  treacherous,  to  present  my  testi- 
monials to  the  president  of  the  Irish  College,  who,  having 
examined  them,  admitted  they  were  entitled  to  investiga- 
tion. 

With  what  anxiety  did  I  await  the  result  of  that  investiga- 
tion !  Meanwhile,  '  thick-coming  fears  of  fondness '  often  repre- 
sented my  child  as  languishing  for  want  of  a  mother's  care ;  and 
.1  wandered  round  and  round  the  walls  that  I  supposed  to  enclose 
him,  silently  invoking  protection  and  blessings  on  him. 

I  lost  much  time  in  importuning  the  college  officials  for  the 
decision,  which  I  supposed  would  have  been  immediate,  and  for 
permission  in  tl?e  interim  to  behold  my  child,  if  it  were  but  for 
a  moment. 

I  was  at  length  informed,  in  reply  to  my  entreaties,  that  cir- 
cumstances of  a  formidable,  and,  it  was  feared,  of  an  insur- 
mountable character,  had  been  laid  before  the  council,  which 


214  HELEN  MULORAVB;  OR, 

rendered  it  a  duty  on  their  part  to  interdict  any  intercourse 
betwixt  mo  and  my  son. 

Nevertheless,  it  was  added,  that  being  unwilling  to  decide 
hastily,  they  had  resolved  on  deferring  any  further  considera- 
tion of  the  case,  and  even  to  wave  any  mention  of  what  formed 
the  impediment  to  my  wishes,  unless  the  Count  de  Carryfort 
should  personally  interest  himself  in  an  application  for  it. 

I  was  quite  aware  that  this  amounted  to  a  decided  negation  of 
my  suit,  unless  I  could  prevail  on  my  uncle  to  comply  with  the 
condition  prescribed.  But  how  might  I  find  courage  again  to 
intrude  upon  him  with  a  petition.  In  debating  this  question,  I 
discovered  that  all  I  had  hitherto  suffered  had  been  ineffectual 
to  empty  my  heart  of  its  native  pride. 

It  was  bitterness  and  gall,  after  my  uncle's  interdiction,  in 
which  I  had  tacitly  acquiesced,  to  endeavour  again  to  force 
myself  upon  his  notice.  But  there  was  no  alternative,  unless  I 
relinquished  altogether  the  only  object  that  had  brought  me  to 
Paris. 

I  had  never  seen  my  uncle,  which  increased  the  difficulty  of 
applying  to  him ;  nor  was  it  possible  for  me  to  think  of  the 
unkindness  of  so  near  a  relation,  without  great  diffidence  of 
myself,  and  a  desponding  appreciation  of  that  personal  influence 
with  which  I  was  to  attempt  obtaining  his  sympathy  in  my 
maternal  gviefs.  I  recollected 'having  once  been  told  that  the 
count  resembled  my  mother.  This  recollection  heightened  the 
dread  I  had  of  encountering  him  ;  for  how  could  I  endure  dis- 
dain from  a  countenance  resembling  my  mother's?  Yet  this 
dreaded  visit  must  be  made.  As  I  arrived  at  this  conviction,  I 
made  instant  preparation  for  it,  and  was  soon  on  my  way  to  the 
Rue  d'Anjou. 

When  I  reached  the  count's  hotel,  the  saddest  apprehensions 
filled  my  heart;  and  on  hearing  from  the  porter  that  his  master 
was  at  home,  I  was  seized  with  a  panic  that  almost  induced  me 
to  run  away  without  my  errand.  Nevertheless,  I  suffered 
myself  to  be  led  to  a  superb  saloon,  in  which,  as  the  servant  shut 
the  door,  I  found  myself  alone.  As  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  my 
pale  and  terrified  face  in  one  of  the  large  mirrors  that  hung  on 
the  walls,  I  thought  it  must  of  itself  insure  my  failure,  for  it  was 


JESDIT   EIECUTORSHIP.  215 

so  ghastly  as  to  startle  myself.  I  chose  first  one  seat,  then 
another,  endeavouring  in  vain  to  put  myself  at  ease.  Too  soon 
I  heard  approaching  footsteps ;  and  starting  up,  ran  forward,  not 
knowing  what  I  did,  and  met  a  gentleman  near  the  door,  as  it 
was  thrown  open  by  a  servant  to  admit  him.  One  glance  told 
me  who  he  was,  and  I  exclaimed,  with  irrepressible  emotion, 
'My  uncle!' 

Before  he  could  reply,  I  had  thrown  myself  at  his  feet,  and 
seizing  one  of  his  hands,  unconsciously  bathed  it  with  the  tears 
that  happily  came  to  my  relief. 

A  brief  explanation  followed,  for  I  had  omitted  giving  my 
name  to  the  servant.  But  my  uncle,  in  his  turn,  had  recognised 
lineaments,  which  he  frankly  owned  were  not  to  be  mistaken. 
I  had,  however,  taken  him  by  surprise,  and  thrown  him  off  his 
guard ;  and  his  second  thoughts,  I  instantly  perceived,  had  made 
an  offence  of  this  freedom.  He  disengaged  his  hand,  and  desir- 
ing me  to  rise,  motioned  me  to  a  seat. 

'You  are  Mrs.  Fitzgerald,  I  presume,  madam,  from  whom, 
some  weeks  since,  I  received  a  note,  whose  request  I  promptly 
complied  with,  but  on  one  condition  which,  I  think,  your  pre- 
sence here  has  violated.  I  know  not  what  your  business  may 
be  in  Paris,  madam ;  it  is  a  long  way  from  Ireland,  for  an 
unprotected  woman  to  come  with  a  family  of  children,  and  your 
debut  in  this  gay  city  has  been  "made  under  dubious  circum- 
stances. I  presume  not,  however,  to  call  you  to  account.  I  am 
not  invested  with  any  right  to  do  so ;  and  you  must  consider 
what  I  have  said  rather  as  a  soliloquy  extorted  by  surprise, 
than  as  anything  meant  for  your  ear.' 

'  My  dear  uncle,'  said  I — but  seeing  him  frown,  I  added — '  I 
beg  your  pardon,  Monsieur  de  Carryfort,  will  you  permit  me  to 
mention  to  you,  briefly,  the  causes  and  the  objects  of  my  coming 
to  Paris !' 

'  No,  madam.  You  need  not  give  yourself  the  trouble.  I 
have  already  heard  of  the  Marquis  de  Grammont ;  and  can  ima- 
gine everything  you  may  choose  to  tell  me.' 

'  The  Marquis  de  Grammont  I  Oh !  what  has  he  to  do  with 
my  coming  to  Paris  ?  I  know  not  even  if  he  is  in  existence, 
find  it  is  many  years  since  I  have  heard  the  mention  of  his 


216  HELEN  MULGRAVE;  OK, 

name.  Nor  has  it,  in  those  years,  ever  once  passed  my  lips 
until  this  moment!' 

My  uncle  smiled  contemptuously.  *  But  I  am  told  you  are 
mistress  of  the  pen,  Mrs.  Fitzgerald ;  and  that  little  magical 
instrument  is  often  endowed  with  convenient  potency.' 

'  I  know  not  what  you  would  say,  sir ;  but  it  is  evident  to 
me,  that  you  have  in  some  way  been  misinformed  respecting 
me  and  mine.  Shall  I  intrude  too  long  on  you,  if  I  recount  the 
principal  events  of  my  wretched  life  ?  You  appear  to  know 
something  of  my  early  years,' — here  he  abruptly  interrupted 
me  with — 

'  "Where  are  you  living,  Mrs.  Fitzgerald  ?' 

1  With  persons  of  the  name  of  Murphy — an  Irishwoman  and 
her  daughter,  residing  in  the  Eue  St.  Florentin ;  who  tell  me, 
they  have  the  honour  of  being  known  to  you.' 

'  Known  to  me  ?'  repeated  he,  fiercely  and  disdainfully. 
'  May  I  trouble  you  to  mention  your  business  here  with  me 
this  morning,  Mrs.  Fitzgerald ;  and  I  must  request  you  to  do 
so  quickly.' 

He  looked  at  .me,  while  saying  this,  with  an  expression  so 
severe,  that  I  saw  there  was  no  possibility  of  extending  my  stay 
a  moment  longer,  unless  I  instantly  complied  with  liis  require- 
ment. My  business  was  soon  Jold,  and  as  soon  disposed  of;  for 
he  abruptly  and  decidedly  declined  any  further  effort  for  me 
with  the  college ;  adding,  he  knew  not  but  that  in  coupling  his 
name  with  mine  he  had  already  compromised  its  respectability. 
This  observation  fell  on  me  so  crushingly,  and  with  so  myste- 
rious an  air,  as  to  inflict  a  species  of  distress  stunning  and 
entirely  new  to  me.  I  rose  to  go,  but  trembled  so  exceeding- 
ly, that  without  asking  permission,  I  again  sat  down.  Not  a 
tear  came  to  my  aid;  nor  could  I  force  a  syllable  from 
my  lips,  for  my  heart  swelled  almost  to  suffocation.  The 
count,  seeing  the  overwhelming  effect  of  his  last  remark,  said, 
in  a  milder  tone-1-'  There  are  mysteries  in  your  life,  madam, — 
I  wish  there  were  not.  It  is  too  late  to  bid  you  beware  of  your 
associates,  or  to  tell  you  that  a  woman  is  judged  of  by  her 
domestic  and  chosen  inmates.  I  beseech  you  to  believe,  that  I 
have  no  intention  whatever  to  interfere  at  all  in  your  concerns; 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  217 

otherwise,  I  should  say,  that  a  young  woman  of  character  and 
delicacy,  as  your  appearance  is  specious  enough  to  imply,  is 
generally  prudent  in  the  choice  of  her  residence.  I  have  been 
told  that  you  fell  into  poverty  in  Ireland — and  poverty  is,  I 
allow,  a  palliation  for  many  omissions,  both  to  ourselves  and 
others.  But  there  are  wrongs  to  ourselves,  which  not  even 
poverty  may  palliate. 

'  Excuse  me,  madam,  I  can  hear  no  reply.  The  information 
on  which  I  have  been  induced  to  make  these  remarks  is  of  too 
indubitable  a  nature  for  me  to  hesitate  a  moment  in  giving  cre- 
dence to  it.  I  therefore  ought  not  to  have  said  what  I  have 
said  ;  and  lest  your  appearance  and  your  visible  distress  should 
lead  me  into  further  wrong,  I  will  bid  you  adieu.  .When  you 
are  sufficiently  composed  to  depart,  you  will  ring  the  bell.' 
With  these  cutting  words,  and  a  manner  at  once  stern  and 
gloomy,  he  rose  to  go. 

Wrought  up  almost  to  madness  by  the  dishonour  with  which 
his  mysterious  words  seemed  to  cover  me,  and  unable  to  speak, 
I  sprang  forward,  making  supplicating  gestures  to  detain  him. 
With  a  repulsive  wave  of  the  hand,  he  darted  out  of  the  room, 
closing  the  door  after  him. 

I  did  not  remain  long  where  he  had  left  me,  but,  with  as 
much  speed  as  I  could  make,  regained  my  wretched  chamber 
on  the  fifth  floor.  Fortunately,  I  found  myself  alone  there ;  for 
at  that  moment  I  could  not  have  endured  the  sight  even 
of  my  children  without  an  increase  to  my  suffering.  I  fastened 
my  door,  and,  with  a  feeling  of  unutterable  anguish,  threw 
myself  prostrate  on  the  floor. 

It  was  neither  in  humility  nor  in  resignation  that  I  did  this, 
but  my  whole  sonl  was  filled  with  a  sense  of  wrong  so  oppressive, 
that  I  was  an  insupportable  burden  to  myself. 

I  had  been  long  inured  to  adversity,  but  dishonour  had  never 
in  any  shape  been  mingled  with  it.  Its  tainted  breath  had 
never  before  poisoned  my  respiration,  or  uttered  my  name.  I 
had  made  a  league  with  Poverty,  and  taken  Sorrow  to  my 
arms.  Neglect  was  my  familiar,  and  Humiliation  my  sister. 
But  with  an  evil  like  this,  I  could  make  no  compromise,  nor 
knew  I  how  to  deal  with  it ;  for  in  taking  a  survey,  as  I  had 

10 


218  HELEN    MCLORAVE  ;    OR, 

sometimes  done,  of  the  mortifying  possibilities  of  my  future  lot, 
I  had  never  thought  of  this. 

What  bad  I  not  hoped  from  this  interview !  The  ties  of 
blood  can  never  be  broken,  and  as  we  advance  in  life,  and  death 
diminishes  the  circle  of  our  relatives,  we  cling  closer  and  closer 
to  those  that  remain.  I  had  never  seen  my  uncle  until  now, 
still  I  felt  that  he  was  mine — that  he  was  my  mother's  brother  ; 
and  although  his  unkindness  on  my  first  arrival  had  destroyed 
all  dependance  on  him  as  a  friend,  the  thought  of  seeing  him 
had  inspired  the  hope  of  awakening  him  to  a  sense  of  what  he 
was  to  me,  and  what  was  due  to  himself,  in  his  unfortunate 
niece. 

Hopes  and  recollections  that  had  for  years  slumbered  in  my 
soulr  had  been  awakened.  But  to  what  purpose,  except  to 
sharpen  the  pain  which  his  most  mysterious  and  offensive  words 
Lad  inflicted  on  me?  The  more  I  aimed  at  discovering  his 
meaning,,  the  more  1  was-  bewildered  Why  had  Monsieur  do 
Grainmont's  name  been  introduced?  Still  more,  why  was  it 
offensively  introduced  ?  But  these  queries  could  only  be  replied 
to  by  the  bewildering  suggestions  of  fancy,  for  which,  in  the 
impenetrable  darkness  that  surrounded  me,  there  was  no  sphere. 
A  review  of  the  cruel  part  which  my  uncle  had  borne  in  our 
interview,  drew  at  length  bitter  tears  from  me  ;  and,  compelled 

I  now  was  to  resign,,  perhaps  for  years,  if  not  for  ever,  all 
hop\?  of  ministerisg  to  the  welfare  of  a  beloved  child,  and  los- 
ing tfl*s  the  object  for  which  I  had  become  an  exile,  I  would 
fain  haro  returned  to  Ireland,  and  buried  myself  and  my  griefs 
in  my  panfint  earth.  But  this  was  impossible  ;  and  after  many 
frours  of  almost  suspended  life,  I  revived  to  a  sense  of  the  pres- 
sing duties  thro  remained  to  me,  and  to  a  new  perception  of  the 
treasures  still  lefts,  me  in  my  little  girls. 

In  recurring  to  ti^e  mysterious  words  of  my  uncle,  it  was  quite 
evident  that  something  must  be  wrong  ia  the  residence  which  I 
had  chosen,  and  It  was  some  relief  to  me  to  arrive  at  certainty 
on  any  point.  Efitherto  I  had  lived  so  much  apart  from  the 
Murphys  that  I  scarcely  k^ew  more  of  their  pursuits  than  on 
the  first  day  of  becoming  ^beir  inmate.  I  had,  indeed,  no 
leisure  for  observing  their  movements.  Bnt  it  was  now  a  duty 


• 


\ 


JESUIT   EXKCUTORSHIP.  219 

to  myself  to  learn  what  was  passing  around  me.  Thus  occupied, 
I  became  a  perpetual  prey  to  misgivings,  and  suspicious  of 
every  movement  that  took  place.  Very  soon  I  had  an  opportu- 
nity of  observing  occurrences  in  the  salons  of  Mrs.  Murphy, 
which  I  now  began  occasionally  to  enter,  that  explained  in  some 
measure  the  vague  and  alarming  insinuations  of  my  uncle. 
There  were,  I  knew  from  the  first,  frequent  assemblies  there ; 
but  I  supposed  them  to  be  simply  reunion*  of  her  friends  and 
neighbours ;  and  as  I  dreaded  nothing  so  much  as  growing  into 
familiarity  with  my  hostesses  and  their  acquaintances,  I  always 
secluded  myself  at  such  times  strictly  within  the  precincts  of  my 
own  chamber. 

Now,  however,  I  paid  a  diligent  attention  to  everything  that 
was  passing,  and  soon  discovered  that  the  evening  amusement  of 
the  house  consisted  in  gambling ;  and  I  had  reason  also  to  sus- 
pect, that  the  parties  were  frequented  by  persons  of  disreputable 
character. 

In  the  first  moments  of  my  surprise  and  alarm,  I  imprudently 
expressed  to  the  Murphys  themselves  the  horror  that  I  felt  at  tho 
discovery,  and  decidedly  told  them  I  could  no  longer  remain  in 
their  house.  They  replied  with  disdain  and  defiance,  demand- 
ing of  me  immediate  payment  of  the  debt  I  had  incurred  for  my 
board  and  lodging  with  them.  This  demand,  though  of  small 
amount — having  paid  my  first  month  in  advance — touched  me 
sorely,  as  I  was  unable  to  comply  with  it,  in  consequence  of  not 
having  received  from  Ireland  a  remittance  which  had  been  due 
several  weeks. 

In  my  next  interview  with  Mrs.  Murphy,  she  insultingly 
offered  to  compromise  with  me,  on  condition  that  I  would  join 
her  evening  assemblies.  Stung  to  the  quick  by  such  a  proposal, 
I  declined  it  with  too  visible  a  contempt.  After  this  the 
Murphys  threw  off  all  restraint  on  their  manners ;  every  cour- 
tesy was  abandoned,  and  their  resentment  of  the  stand  I  had 
taken  was  visible  in  every  part  of  their  demeanour.  Under 
these  circumstances,  as  my  remittanca  did  not  arrive,  I  saw  com- 
plete destitution  marching  on  me  with  giant  strides.  My  nights 
were  passed  without  sleep,  my  days  in  that  sickness  of  heart 
which  arises  from  '  hope  deferred.' 


220  HELEN    MVLORAVE  ;    OR, 

In  the  streets  I  saw  persons  of  all  ages  and  conditions  pursu- 
ing  their  respective  objects,  and  I  envied  even  the  menial 
labourer  his  lot.  How  gladly  wonld  I  have  cast  off  every  ves- 
tige of  a  superior  condition,  could  I  by  so  doing  have  gained  an 
exemption  from  the  corroding  cares  which  an  uncertain  subsist- 
ence entailed.  I  doubted  not  that  my  hands  might  be  taught  to 
do  whatever  others'  had  done  before  me ;  but  I  had  not  yet 
arrived  at  the  point  which  constrained  me  to  the  experiment  of 
manual  labour. 

I  subsequently  discovered  that  even  this  was  an  art,  all  easy 
as  it  seemed  untried,  that  required  early  initiation,  and  that  it 
"would  be  less  difficult  for  me,  who  had  been  reared  in  deplora- 
ble ignorance  of  it,  to  die  of  want,  than  to  acquire  a  successful 
knowledge  of  it.  The  discovery  which  I  had  made  of  the  hate- 
ful character  of  Mrs.  Murphy's  house,  kept  me  in  a  perpetual 
fever  of  desire  to  leave  it ;  but  no  remittance  came,  and  I  was 
compelled  to  stay  until  I  could  discharge  my  debt  there. 

Both  mother  and  daughter  made  frequent  remarks,  reminding 
me  how  much  I  was  in  their  power.  Indeed,  I  began  to  think 
that  I  ought  to  feel  obliged  to  them,  for  their  forbearance  in 
allowing  me  to  remain,  after  the  affront  they  had  received  from 
me  respecting  their  evening  amusement. 

To  give  myself  occupation,  and  divert  my  thoughts,  I  began 
to  put  into  some  form  a  diary,  which  I  had  kept  for  many  years, 
but  which  hitherto  consisted  of  loose  fragments,  that  had  been 
written  at  various  periods,  to  shorten  the  hour  of  suffering  or 
fill  up  an  interval  of  leisure. 

My  uncle's  mysterious  hints  had  shown  me,  in  a  new  and 
strong  light,  the  isolation  of  my  lot,  and  the  defencelessness  of 
my  position,  in  some  of  their  worst  consequences.  By  arrang- 
ing a  history  of  my  early  life,  I  should  not  only  be  making  a 
record  of  its  occupations  and  pursuits,  in  an  accessible  and 
durable  form,  which  would  protect  me  against  misrepresentation, 
but  it  would  afford  me  at  this  trying  period  a  sphere  of  thought 
that  would  remove  me  from  the  scenes  and  occurrences  around 
me.  I  entered  on  it  without  delay,  that  I  might  not  be  wanting 
to  myself  in  efforts  to  preserve  some  composure  of  mind, 
although  I  continued  under  the  most  distracting  apprehensions. 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  221 

CHAPTER   XXIV. 

THE  Murphys  now  kept  no  measures  with  me,  but  practised  a 
systematic  persecution,  which  daily  revealed  some  new  source 
of  disquiet  and  alarm.  Still  the  postman  brought  me  no  advice 
of  my  draft,  and  being  almost  entirely  out  of  funds,  I  had 
nothing  to  oppose  to  any  outrage  offered  me,  except  unavailing 
remonstrance  for  what  they  considered  they  had  a  right  to  inflict, 
or  an  occasional  show  of  courage  that  had  no  existence  in  my 
heart. 

In  making  my  pecuniary  estimates  before  I  left  Ireland,  I  was 
not  aware  that  the  practice  in  Paris,  botjj  in  schools  and  lodging- 
houses,  was  that  of  payment  in  advance.  I  had  paid  a  month 
in  advance  to  Mrs.  Murphy  on  my  first  arrival,  and  not  being 
prepared  for  this  call,  I  had  been  embarrassed  by  it ;  the  more 
so  as  my  remittance  from  Ireland  had  been  so  long  delayed. 

Except  occasionally,  I  had  never,  since  I  had  been  with  the 
Murphys,  accustomed  myself  to  go  out  even  to  the  Protestant 
church,  without  being  accompanied  by  one  of  them,  or  inform- 
ing them  where  I  was  going ;  and  they  had  made  it  a  point  that 
I  should  not  do  so,  under  pretence  of  its  being  dangerous  to  me 
as  a  stranger.  But  as  I  was  no  longer  a  stranger,  there  was  no 
reason  for  this  restraint,  and  I  resolved  on  going  out,  for  the 
future,  without  previously  giving  any  account  of  my  intended 
movements. 

My  children  and  myself  were  accustomed  to  be  narrowly 
watched ;  but  we  were  so  fortunate  one  fine  morning  as  to  quit 
our  prison  without  being  seen  to  depart.  Being  resolved  to 
extricate  myself  if  possible  from  my  present  position,  I  made 
my  way  with  rapid  steps  to  a  boarding-school  not  far  distant, 
where  I  had  been  informed  that  English  pentionnaires  en  cham- 
t>res  were  received  on  very  moderate  terms.  I  soon  made  an 
agreement,  satisfactory  to  myself,  with  Madame  de  Corbiere, 
the  mistress  of  the  establishment,  and  engaged  to  enter  on  my 


222  HKl.KN    MULGKAVE  J    OR, 

term  with  her  as  soon  as  I  was  in  possession  of  the  necessary 
funds. 

To  facilitate  this,  I  went,  instantly  on  quitting  her  house,  to 
call  on  the  banker,  to  whom  I  had  been  apprized  that  my  letter 
of  credit  would  be  addressed.  I  should  have  taken  this  step 
before,  had  I  not  been  dissuaded,  and  even  prevented  from  it, 
by  the  Murphys. 

On  making  my  inquiries  at  the  bank,  I  was  informed  that  the 
letter  of  credit  in  question  had  long  since  been  received,  and 
paid  to  the  person  in  whose  favour  it  had  been  drawn.  It  is 
impossible  for  me  describe  my  surprise  and  consternation  at  this 
intelligence.  I  immediately  demanded  an  audience  of  the  prin- 
cipal of  the  bank,  who  showed  me  a  receipt  for  the  amount  of 
the  draft,  to  which  my  name  was  affixed. 

His  astonishment  was  not  much  less  than  my  own,  when  I 
assured  him  that  I  had»never  employed  any  one  to  receive  the 
money,  and  that  the  name  affixed  to  the  receipt,  though  mine, 
was  not  of  my  writing.  I  moreover  told  him  that  the  draft  had 
never  been  at  all  in  my  possession ,  it  having  never  come  to 
hand';  in  short,  that  I  knew  nothing  whatever  of  the  transac- 
tion. The  questions  of  the  banker  were  close  and  shrewd,  and 
although  a  countryman  of  my  own,  a  sort  of  distrust  hung  on 
his  brow,  which  augmented  my  panic,  for  I  thought  myself  at 
once  irretrievably  ruined. 

The  frankness  of  my  communications  appeared  to  dispel  his 
first  doubts ;  but  on  learning  my  place  of  residence  his  counten- 
ance again  clouded,  the  name  of  the  Murphys  seeming  to  have 
a  disagreeable  effect  on  him.  I  saw  that  I  was  disparaged,  if 
not  even  condemned,  by  the  very  mention  of  it.  The  principal 
object  for  me,  however,  was  to  ascertain  who  had  done  me  this 
wrong.  As  there  was  no  one  in  Paris  who  could  have  had  the 
kowledge  or  the  power  to  do  it  except  the  Murphys,  my  suspi- 
cions naturally  fell  upon  them.  But  I  had  self-command  enough 
to  suppress  any  mention  of  them  at  this  moment ;  nevertheless, 
the  banker  himself  at  the  close  of  our  interview,  appeared  to 
have  arrived  at  the  same  conclusion  as  myself,  and  telling  me 
that  I  might  expect  a  visit  from  him  in  the  course  of  the  follow- 
ing day,  withdrew  to  his  private  room. 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSHIP.  223 

I  hastily  quitted  the  office  to  return  to  the  Kue  St.  Florentin. 
My  dread  of  meeting  the  Murphys,  after  the  information  I  had 
acquired,  was  great,  and  was  only  controlled  by  the  conviction 
of  its  immediate  necessity,  and  the  terror  of  soon  finding  myself 
and  family  houseless  and  destitute.  It  is  impossible  for  any  one 
unacquainted  with  destitution  such  as  mine,  to  listen  with  inte- 
rest to  the  mention  of  the  many  fearful  fancies  that  haunted  me, 
as  I  retraced  my  steps  with  my  two  children  from  the  detested 
habitation  of  the  Murphy s. 

When  I  reflected  that  I  had  it  not  in  my  power  to  confront 
them  with  any  proof  of  the  wrong,  which  I  had  no  doubt  they 
had  done  me,  or  to  claim  from  them  a  restitution  of  what  was 
so  essential  to  my  existence,  while  it  was  so  easy,  and  would  be 
so  gratifying  to  them,  to  inflict  on  me  the  penalty  of  a  debtor,  I 
saw  no  escape  from  their  power.  What  if  I  should  be  taken 
from  my  children  and  immured  in  a  debtor's  prison  ?  But  this 
was  a  contingency  so  hideous,  that  I  would  not  allow  myself  to 
contemplate  it.  A  crisis  was  certainly  approaching,  and  come 
what  might,  perhaps  I  ought  to  feel  hope  rather  than  despair, 
and  reversing  the  maxim,  'All  change  is  evil,'  exclaim,  any 
change  for  me  must  be  a  benefit. 

It  was  one  o'clock  before  we  found  ourselves  mounting  the 
long  flights  of  stairs  to  our  fifth  etage.  As  we  reached  the  top, 
we  saw  two  ill-looking  men  in  the  act  of  taking  leave  of  the 
Murphys,  at  the  exterior  door  of  their  ante-chamber.  As  the 
men  retreated  down  the  stairs,  I  encountered  the  mother  and 
daughter,  whose  countenances  exhibited  a  consternation  which 
at  first  sight  made  me  suspect  they  had  already  heard  from  the 
banker.  I  was  aware  that  I  met  the  glance  of  Mrs.  Murphy  with 
too  visible  an  agitation ;  but  I  had  never  been  successful  in  the 
art  of  concealing  my  emotions,  and  my  mind  was  at  that 
moment  on  the  rack  of  apprehension. 

Both  mother  and  daughter  stood  in  the  doorway  as  we 
attempted  to  pass,  without  yielding  an  inch;  and  as  I  was 
exhausted  by  mounting  the  stairs,  I  retreated,  and  leant  on  the 
balustrade  for  support,  •ur  having  gone  out  without  the  know- 
ledge of  the  Murphys,  was  evidently  an  event  which  they  were 
determined  to  resent,  and  formed  an  addition  to  the  numerous 
transgressions  already  registered  against  me. 


;.'•_' 4  HELEN  MULGRAVE;  OK, 

Their  looks  were  menacing,  as  Mrs.  Murphy  said,  '  You  have 
been  abroad  this  morning,  inadam — you  are  really  growing 
very  independent.  What  a  mortification  it  must  be  to  you  that 
you  cannot  sustain  your  independence  by  paying  your  debts ! 
Take  care — I  know  all  you  are  doing ;  but  you  will  not  be  able 
to  escape  me.  You  are  not  yet  out  of  my  house,  nor  shall  you 
go,  but  by  my  leave ;  and  if  you  do  not  wish  to  find  yourself  in 
the  hands  of  a  jailer,  you  will  make  no  further  attempt  at  it. 
You  and  I  can  never  be  friends,  Mrs.  Fitzgerald ;  but  I  do  not 
yet  wish  to  go  into  extremes  with  you,  unless  you  provoke  me 
to  do  so.' 

These  words  seemed  to  give  substance  to  the  shadowy  forms 
of  evil  that  were  hovering  over  me,  and  my  nerves  were  in 
some  degree  braced,  by  the  necessity  of  contending  with  a  stern 
reality.  It  was  evident  that  Mrs.  Murphy  intended  to  exert 
such  power  over  me  as  a  creditor  might  lawfully  use  over  a 
debtor ;  but  what  I  had  just  learnt  at  the  banker's,  if  it  could  be 
proved  against  her,  might  rescue  me  from  her  grasp,  and  place 
her  as  a  criminal  in  the  power  of  the  law. 

This  thought,  amounting  almost  to  certainty,  passed  hurriedly 
through  my  mind,  and  enabled  me  to  say  to  her,  though  in  fal- 
tering voice,  '  I  am  certainly  your  debtor,  madam,  for  nearly  a 
month's  board  and  lodging,  which,  according  to  the  custom  of 
Paris,  should  have  been  paid  in  advance.  That  it  has  not  been, 
is  my  misfortune,  not  my  fault.  Why  I  have  been  disappointed 
of  the  remittance  I  have  so  long  expected,  and  which  would 
have  enabled  me  to  cancel  my  debt,  you  perhaps  know  better 
than  I  do.' 

I  was  able,  as  I  uttered  these  words,  to  look  full  at  Mrs.  Mur- 
phy, and  to  perceive  that  her  countenance  fell  under  my  glance, 
with  a  consciousness  so  decided  as  not  to  be  mistaken. 

She  turned  away  with  a  quick  movement,  took  her  daughter's 
arm,  and  they  walked  off  together,  without  a  word  of  reply 

I  made  way  to  my  own  chamber,  and  threw  myself  on  the 
bed,  where  I  remained  some  time,  so  lost  in  vague  terrors  as  to 
be  nearly  insensible  to  the  presence  of*  my  two  dear  little  chil- 
dren, who  were  hovering  about  me,  and  wiping  away  the  tears 
which  happily  came  to  my  relief. 

'  To-morrow,'  it  is  said,  '  is  nowhere  to  be  found,  except  per 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  225 

chance,  in  the  fool's  calendar;'  and  yet  on  this  contemned 
to-morrow,  all  my  hopes  of  respite  from  destruction  were  now 
built — for  had  not  the  banker  promised  to  come  '  to-morrow'  in 
person,  to  search  out — perhaps  to  rectify,  the  wrong  that  had 
been  done  me  ?  I  endeavoured  to  dismiss  the  thought  of  this 
eventful  '  to-morrow'  by  caressing  and  playing  with  my  chil- 
dren, who  responded  to  my  feelings  with  a  sweetness  that  fell 
like  the  dew  of  heaven  on  my  heart*  But  they  wanted  their 
brother  Frederic,  they  said,  that  mamma  might  kiss  him  too, 
and  that  they  might  tell  him  what  he  ought  to  do  for  her  when 
he  was  a  man. 

Thus  reminded  of  my  lost  child,  and  dubious  of  what  the  next 
hour  might  produce,  I  took  my  two  girls  in  my  hand,  and  went 
towards  the  Irish  College,  that  I  might  afford  to  them  and 
myself  the  gratification  of  imagining  that  we  were  near  the  little 
prisoner  within  its  walls. 

As  we  walked  round  the  building,  I  observed,  not  far  from 
us,  a  person  whose  outline  so  resembled  that  of  the  '  Jesuit 
Executor,'  that  I  hastened  to  come  up  with  him,  resolved  to 
implore  him  on  the  spot,  for  a  sight  of  my  child. 

As  he  looked  behind  him,  I  fancied  he  must  have  recognised 
me,  for  he  instantly  quickened  his  pace,  and  turning  a  corner, 
was  out  of  sight  in  a  moment,  so  that  I  was  left  unable  to  ascer- 
tain his  identity. 

"When  we  returned  to  the  Rue  St.  Florentin,  it  was  nearly  six 
o'clock,  and  the  Murphys  as  usual,  at  the  ringing  of  the  door- 
bell, were  at  hand  to  ascertain  who  entered.  They  did  not  fill 
the  doorway  as  in  the  morning,  but  scowled  at  us  terrifically  as 
we  passed,  though  without  any  verbal  discourtesy. 

My  children  were  suffering  from  want  of  something  to  eat, 
and  as  there  were  no  visible  preparations  for  dinner,  I  began  to 
fear  that  I  was  to  be  starved  into  submission  to  my  persecutors. 
At  seven,  however,  an  hour  later  than  usual,  we  were  summon- 
ed to  the  dinner-table.  Not  a  word  of  greeting  passed  on 
either  side  as  we  met ;  but  I  moved  to  them  as  I  took  my  seat 
at  the  table,  a  courtesy  which  they  did  not  acknowledge,  and 
we  soon  dispatched  a  very  unsavoury  dinner. 

When  the  cloth  had  been  withdrawn,  Miss  Murphy  rose,  and 
10* 


226  HKLKN    Ml'LUKAVK  ;    OK, 

my  children  rose  to  amuse  themselves  elsewhere.  Mrs.  Murphy 
and  1  were  left  alone.  I  had  been  in  a  deep  reverie  for  some 
minutes,  -with  my  eyes  cast  to  the  ground,  when,  on  raising 
them,  I  met  a  full  and  piercing  stare  from  my  opposite  companion. 
She  looked  as  though  she  would  destroy  me  with  a  glance,  and 
trample  me  under  her  feet  afterwards.  I  was  roused  by  the 
frightful  expression  of  her  face,  into  a  sense  of  some  immediate 
danger ;  and  gathering  up  the  fragments  of  my  courage,  looked 
at  her  calmly,  but  inquiringly. 

She  understood  my  look,  for  she  ejaculated,  '  By  Jupiter, 
what  daring ;  for  you,  indeed,  most  wonderful !  You  wish  to 
know,  no  doubt,  how  much  longer  I  will  house  and  feed  you, 
without  payment  of  costs  ?  Your  time  is  short ;  nor  can  you 
now  hide  from  my  vengeance  in  secret  passages,  or  haunted 
rooms,  or  whistle  dogs  or  soldiers  to  your  rescue,  or  call ' 

When  she  had  proceeded  thus  far,  she  stopped  short,  with  a 
sudden  jerk  of  the  voice,  rose  from  the  table,  nearly  overturned 
it  with  a  shove,  and  strode  out  of  the  room. 

While  she  had  been  thus  speaking,  in  tones  and  gestures  cer- 
tainly unusual  to  her,  I  received  so  strong  an  impression  of  her 
identity  with  Margaret  Brian,  that  I  was  nearly  petrified  by 
the  discovery.  I  had  never  seen  Brian,  and  only  remembered 
that  a  description  of  her  person,  which  had  been  once  made  to 
me,  answered  so  exactly  to  Murphy  herself,  as  she  appeared  on 
this  occasion,  that  I  could  arrive  at  no  other  solution  of  the 
enigma  she  presented,  than  that  she  was  Brian  herself.  The 
difference  of  names  seemed  an  impediment  to  this  conclusion  ; 
but  the  assumption  of  a  feigned  name  was  easy  to  a  person  like 
her.  Besides,  had  she  not  recurred  to  the  incendiary  plot 
against  Mulgrave  Castle  ?  And  who  but  Brian  could  have 
known  of  its  '  secret  passages,'  and  '  haunted  rooms,'  and 
other  particulars  which  she  had  alluded  to  ?  The  inference  from 
all  this  was  too  strong  to  be  resisted. 

Was  I  then  under  the  roof,  and  in  the  power  of  a  woman  who 
for  years  had  hung  like  a  vampire  on  my  father's  life,  and  who 
had  so  often  threatened  destruction  to  his  whole  family?  A 
burglar,  who  had  haunted  and  robbed  our  house  of  its  most 
eortly  treasures ?  An  incendiary,  who  had  plotted  its  destruc- 


JESUIT    EXKCUTORSHIP.  227 

tion,  and  that  of  its  whole  household,  by  fire  ?  Was  it  to  this 
being  I  had  entrusted  my  life,  and  the  lives  of  my  children? 
Oh!  in  such  keeping,  who  could  count  on  safety?  Not  a  life 
amongst  us  was  worth  a  twelve  hours'  purchase.  And  yet  we 
were  in  her  power,  so  fast,  there  seemed  to  be  no  possible 
escape  for  us,  except  that  ignis-fatuus  of  '  to-morrow '  should 
bring  a  rescue. 

I  rose  from  my  seat  in  haste,  to  seek  my  children,  and  retire 
with  them  to  my  own  chamber.  It  was  now  eight  o'clock,  and 
in  another  hour,  perhaps,  the  accustomed  guests,  from  whom  I 
shrank  as  from  a  horde  of  basilisks,  might  be  assembled  in  the 
salons. 

I  locked  and  bolted  myself  into  my  room,  and  put  my  chil- 
dren to  bed.  Believing  as  I  did,  even  more  firmly  as  I  con- 
tinued to  reflect  on  its  proofs,  that  I  had  discovered  Brian  in  my 
hostess,  I  commended  myself  and  my  children  to  God  with  a 
throbbing  heart,  and  lay  down  without  taking  off  my  clothes, 
fearing  that  the  consciousness  which  Murphy  herself  must  on 
reflection  feel,  that  she  had  divested  herself  of  all  disguise, 
might  induce  her  to  commit  some  immediate  outrage  on  us. 

I  continued  long  awake ;  and  thought  made  its  usual  circuit 
through  the  troubled  regions  of  both  past  and  present,  labouring 
to  trace  to  its  real  cause  my  calamitous  lot. 

Could  it  lie  amongst  the  compulsory  and  false  vows  that  had 
been  uttered  at  the  altar?  Perchance  the  guilt  lay  there  ? 

Yet  as  the  soft  breathing  of  my  lovely  sleeping  children 
reached  my  ear,  did  I  not  bless  the  Divine  Giver  of  such  gifts  ? 
— Did  I  not  pray,  and  strive  to  live  for  them  ?  What  greater 
boon,  had  I  been  alone  in  the  world,  could  I  have  received,  at 
this  most  frightful  crisis  of  my  life,  than  death  ?  Yet  I  desired 
intensely  still  to  live,  that  I  might  shield  them  from  the  evil 
world  around  them ! 

As  the  night  wore  on  I  must  have  fallen  asleep,  for  all  at  once 
I  was  roused  to  consciousness  by  the  distant  sound  of  voices  in 
the  remote  salons,  which  rose  and  fell,  in  stifled  harshness, 
through  the  closed  doors. 

As  they  occasionally  opened,  the  raised  tones  of  one  discord- 
ant voice,  louder  than  all  the  others,  arrested  iny  attention  as  a 


•J28  HELEN    MULUKAVE  ;    OK, 

reminiscence  of  one  I  had  heard  before.  "While  memory  was 
busy  in  endeavouring  to  recall  the  original,  I  fell  into  a  troubled 
sleep  and  dream,  from  which  I  awoke  trembling  and  gasping  for 
breath.  I  sat  up  to  recover  myself,  when  a  door  suddenly  burst 
open,  and  a  rush  of  feet  was  heard  entering  the  ante-chamber  of 
my  room. 

Then,  voices  rose  in  loud  tones  of  passion,  and  rang  around 
the  walls — a  fierce  struggle  followed  outside  my  door,  which 
threatened  every  moment  to  burst  it  open.  As,  however,  I 
knew  it  to  be  securely  fastened,  I  kept  myself  tolerably  tranquil. 
Amongst  various  other  sounds,  I  heard  distinctly  the  hard  and 
peremptory  tones,  and  the  distinct  articulation  of  Mrs.  Murphy. 
She  was  endeavouring  to  control  the  tempest  around  her ;  but 
her  efforts  were  vain. 

Over  the  top  of  my  room-door  there  was  a  range  of  glass 
panes,  through  which,  on  the  opposite  wall  of  my  chamber, 
nickered  the  moving  lights  outside,  and  then  the  shadows 
of  human  heads,  in  quick  succession  traversing  each  other,  fell 
on  it  for  a  moment,  and  were  gone  again.  Amongst  these,  was 
an  outline  so  like  that  of  the  Jesuit,  as  to  add  to  the  mysteries 
around  me.  Suddenly  the  struggle  of  personal  violence  ceased, 
and  an  instant  after  the  confused  vociferation  also  ceased,  leav- 
ing only  a  low  moaning  sound  from  a  single  voice,  close  at  my 
door,  which  said — 'I'm  not  dead — I  shall  yet  avenge  myself! 
Give  me  back  my  gold — I  say,  give  it  me  back — or  take  the  con- 
sequences.' This  was  followed  by  a  deep  groan  and  a  moment 
of  silence.  As  the  words,  though  in  a  gasping  and  feeble  tone, 
had  been  uttered  in  English,  I  detected  the  peculiar  enunciation 
of  the  Irish  parish  priest. 

No  doubt  now  remained  with  me  of  who  were  my  inmates ; 
but,  as  if  to  make  assurance  doubly  sure,  I  heard  Mrs.  Murphy 
say,  *  Patrick  Connor,  you  are  under  my  roof,  and  I  will  teach 

you ,'  the  remainder  was  said  in  a  whisper  ;  but  the  moaning 

man  replied,  in  a  sharp,  broken  tone,  '  Jewels !  did  you  say  ? — 
jewels?  By  St.  Patrick  himself,  but  you  shall  answer  for 
that!' 

As  this  last  menace  spent  itself  on  the  air,  an  outbreak 
of  voices  succeeded,  in  French,  some  of  which  proposed  to  bear 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  229 

the  priest  into  an  interior  room,  and  lay  him  on  a  bed.  He 
protested  against  it,  but  his  resistance  was  vain,  although  he 
swore  that,  as  he  did  not  want  to  die,  he  would  not  remain 
under  Mrs.  Murphy's  roof. 

But  the  ruling  spirit  was  there,  and  he  was  carried  off.  In  a 
minute  after  the  ante-chamber  was  forsaken,  and  the  lights  had 
departed. 

The  night  seemed  very  long,  although  it  had  been  thus  broken, 
and  I  did  not  sleep  again  until  worn  out  with  thought. 

The  discovery  of  the  preceding  evening  had  shown  me  a  mine 
under  my  feet,  and  revealed  the  causes  of  that  blight  which  had 
fallen  on  every  effort  I  had  made  for  the  benefit  of  my  family 
since  I  had  been  in  Paris.  From  the  first  moment  of  my 
arrival,  and  long  before,  this  (would-have-been)  assassin  of  the 
inmates  of  my  cottage  was  keeping  close  vigil  on  me,  and 
spreading  toils  for  my  feet,  into  which  my  exigences  and  my 
inexperience  led  me  blindfold. 

Since  then,  her  intrigues  for  my  ruin  had  been  going  on  with 
headlong  success.  My  funds  embezzled  by  her — myself  her  debtor 
— and  my  name  dishonoured !  Where  might  all  this  end  ?  I 
had  now  no  doubt  that  the  mysteries  at  which  my  uncle  had 
hinted  were  written  fabrications  of  hers,  to  prevent  his  acknow- 
ledgment of  me.  That  she  could  never  have  been  admitted  to 
his  presence  was  evident.  But  with  her  notorious  talent  for  let- 
ter-writing, it  was  easy  to  believe  that  she  had  assailed  both  my 
uncle  and  the  council  of  the  college  with  statements  and  forge- 
ries of  atrocious  import  respecting  me  and  mine,  so  that  neither 
the  one  nor  the  other  cared  to  divulge  them. 

The  outline  of  the  Jesuit,  which  I  had  seen  shadowed  on  the 
wall  through  the  glass  panes,  was  an  appalling  fact ;  and  recol- 
lecting that  I  had,  as  I  believed  seen  the  Jesuit  himself,  when 
walking  with  my  children  in  the  precincts  of  the  Irish  college,  I 
had  not  a  doubt  but  that  he  was  living  in  Paris.  A  new  and 
fearful  mystery  was  thus  created  to  augment  my  terrors,  for  if  it 
was  indeed  he  who  was  one  of  the  revellers  of  the  night,*there 
must  be  some  intimate  connexion  betwixt  him  and  the  Murphys, 
and  I  was  again,  when  least  prepared  to  defend  myself,  '  in  the 
grasp  of  the  priests.' 


230  HKI.KN     MULUKAVK  J    OK, 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

ABOUT  eight  in  the  morning,  I  awoke  at  the  sound  of  a  loud 
ring  at  the  exterior  door  of  the  dwelling.  When  it  was  opened, 
high  words  were  heard,  but  they  were  not  intelligible.  I  was 
very  anxious  to  despatch  the  business  of  the  toilet  for  myself, 
that  I  might  be  able  to  perform  it  also  for  my  children,  for  I 
felt  that  we  ought  to  be  roady  for  any  contingency  that  might 
occur. 

As  I  opened  my  door  to  receive  from  the  servant  an  article 
which  I  had  rung  for,  I  perceived  that  everything  in  the  ante- 
chamber was  in  great  disorder,  and  some  deep  stains,  apparent- 
ly of  blood,  near  my  door,  had  been  recently  attempted  to  be 
washed  away  from  the  floor. 

The  exterior  door  of  this  room,  which  led  out  of  it  to  the 
stairs,  stood  partially  open,  and  through  the  opening  I  saw  two 
men,  having  the  appearance  of  policemen,  stationed  outside,  as 
if  on  service.  At  the  sight  of  them  my  heart  died  within  me, 
for  it  struck  me  that  they  might  be  there  on  my  account. 

Oh,  how  I  longed  for  some  ear  into  which  I  might  have  pour- 
ed out  my  anxieties  and  whispered  my  fears.  My  eldest  child 
was  indeed  eight  years  of  age,  but  it  was  impossible  to  think  of 
torturing  her  young  heart  with  the  feelings  of  mine.  No ;  in 
such  an  extremity  there  is  but  One,  to  whom  we  may  utter 
all  the  extravagance  of  our  terrors. 

I  had  so  often  proved  the  efficacy  of  imploring  Divine  aid, 
that  after  having  again  sought  it,  I  wondered  I  had  deferred  for 
a  moment  to  do  so. 

t  was  the  month  of  November,  and  though  the  weather  had 
been  up  to  this  period  unusually  fine  for  nearly  two  months  that 
I  had%been  in  Paris,  it  now  began  to  feel  chilly,  and  the  atmos- 
phere was  dark  and  heavy.  On  this  morning  especially,  the 
day  seemed  so  reluctant  to  advance,  that  one  might  well  have 
feared  it  would  never  return. 

Immediately  on  retiring  to  my  room  after  breakfast,  without 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  231 

having  seen  the  Murphys  or  heard  anything  of  them,  a  servant 
tapped  at  my  door,  to  tell  me  that  a  gentleman  waited  to  speak 
with  me.  I  hoped  and  supposed  it  might  be  the  banker,  and 
immediately  went  to  him  in  the  salle  d  manger. 

It  was  not  the  banker,  but  a  little  mean-looking  man,  thongh 
tolerably  habited,  who,  on  asking  if  I  were  Mrs.  Fitzgerald, 
without  waiting  for  an  answer,  advanced,  and  seized  me  by  the 
wrist.  I  naturally  recoiled,  and  endeavoured  to  withdraw  my 
hand ;  but  his  grasp  was  so  violent  and  painful  that  I  burst  into 
tears  at  the  insult.  Kecovering  myself,  however,  in  a  moment, 
I  said — '  I  am  so  unfortunate  as  not  to  know  you,  sir ;  why  do 
you  thus  grasp  my  arm  ?' 

'  Madam,  I  beg  your  pardon,  it  is  my  duty  only  that  could 
induce  me  to  make  myself  disagreeable  to  you.  But  I  see  that 
you  are  a  lady,  and  will  therefore  not  take  advantage  of  me  if  I 
leave  you  free.' 

So  saying,  he  let  go  my  arm,  which  was  already  swollen  with 
the  violence  of  his  pressure.  He  stood  before  me  with  a  scruti- 
tinizing  look  for  several  minutes,  while  I  endeavoured,  by  call- 
ing every  motive  to  my  aid,  to  brace  my  nerves,  and  be  pre- 
pared for  whatever  might  follow.  As  he  continued  to  look  at 
me  without  speaking,  I  said  to  him — '  May  I  inquire  your  busi- 
ness with  me,  sir  ?' 

'  My  business,  madam,  is  an  unpleasant  one ;  and  the  more 
so,  as  I  did  not  expect  to  meet  with  exactly  such  a  person  as 
yourself.  However,  I  must  do  my  duty.' 

'  And  what  is  that,  sir  ?'  I  asked,  despondingly. 

'  Why,  indeed,  madam,  you  must  excuse  me  for  the  present. 
Mrs.  Murphy  will,  no  doubt,  soon  be  here,  and  perhaps  she  will 
answer  your  question.  It  is  her  affair ;  but — I  may  perhaps  ask 
you  if  you  are  not  her  debtor,  and  whether  'she  has  not  many 
times  asked  you  fcr  payment  of  a  small  amount  due  to  her, 
without  success  ?' 

I  made  no  reply,  but  these  questions  revealed  at  once  the 
measure  of  my  calamity.  It  was  evident  that  I  was  about  to  be 
incarcerated.  I  did  not,  however,  suffer  myself  to  sink ;  but 
still  hoped  for  the  arrival  of  the  banker,  and  at  every  sound 
turned  to  look  for  him. 


'J'52  IIKI.UN    MULQRAVB  ;    OK, 

But  my  questioner  did  not  forget  that  I  had  not  replied  to  his 
inquiries.  They  were,  therefore,  repeated  in  another  form,  and 
I  related  to  him  the  exact  position  in  which  I  stood  with  Mrs. 
Murphy. 

Having  been  thus  frank  with  him,  I  thought  I  might  venture 
to  ask  his  name ;  for  as  yet  I  had  no  idea  whom  he  might  be. 

'  My  name,  madam,'  he  said,  '  is  Le  Soutein,'  and  he  handed 
me  his  card. 

I  again  inquired,  '  Are  you  the  attorney,  sir  ?' 

'  I  am,  madam.' 

'  Are  you,  then,  employed  in  that  capacity  to  demand  the 
debt  I  owe  Mrs.  Murphy  ?' 

'  I  am,  madam.' 

'  And  if  I  cannot  pay  it — what  then,  sir  ?' 

Having  said  this,  I  burst  into  tears. 

'  Oh,  do  not  weep,  madam.  Your  debt  must  be  a  very  small 
affair.  Surely  you  have  something  which  you  could  turn  into 
money  for  the  discharge  of  it  ?' 

'  I  fear  not,  sir.' 

'  How  long  have  you  been  with  Mrs.  Murphy,  madam  ?' 

'  Not  quite  two  months,  sir  ?' 

'  And  you  have  never  paid  her  anything  since  you  have  been 
with  her  ?' 

'  Only  for  one  month's  board,  sir ;  which  I  paid  in  advance, 
on  my  first  arrival  here.' 

"My  instructions,  madam,  are  for  two  months'  board  for 
three  persons.  If  you  have  your  bill  and  receipt  for  the  month 
you  have  paid,  perhaps  you  would  be  good  enough  to  show  it  to 
me?' 

I  turned  to  fetch  the  document  from  my  own  chamber,  when 
he  again  seized  my  wrist,  saying — '  I  must  not  lose  sight  of  you, 
madam,'  and  thinking  it  unavailing  to  resist,  I  suffered  him  to  go 
with  me  as  far  as  the  door  of  my  room.  I  there  paused,  saying, 
as  I  did  so — '  This  is  my  sleeping-room,  you  cannot,  therefore, 
enter  here.  But  I  will  return  to  you  in  a  moment.' 

To  which  he  replied,  sharply — '  If  you  will  not  let  me  enter 
with  you,  madam,  neither  can  I  let  you  enter  alone.' 

4  Am  I  then  your  prisoner?'  I  inquired. 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  233 

'Not  precisely  that.  But  the  moment  that  forbearance  is  at 
an  end,  there  are  two  policemen  on  the  outside  of  that  door,' 
pointing  to  the  onter  door,  '  to  whose  protection  I  shall  be 
obliged  to  commend  you,  unless  yon  can  avert  it  by  propitiating 
Mrs.  Murphy.' 

As  he  said  this,  I  could  forbear  no  longer,  but  in  spite  of  all 
my  efforts  to  avoid  it,  a  smothered  scream  of  horror  burst  from 
me.  At  this  critical  moment,  a  loud  ring  at  the  entrance  door 
startled  the  lawyer.  He  instantly  loosed  his  hold,  and  at  the 
same  instant  I  rushed  into  my  chamber,  and  locked  myself  in 
with  my  children.  They  had  heard  my  scream,  and  seeing  my 
tears,  threw  themselves  crying  into  my  arms. 

I  remained  thus  for  several  minutes,  in  an  embrace  too  agonis- 
ing for  me  to  write  of,  without  feeling  afresh  the  worse  than 
deathlike  anguish  of  a  mother  about  to  be  torn  from  her  chil- 
dren, under  such  circumstances  as  mine. 

But  there  seemed  no  pause  in  the  action  of  events;  for 
before  we  had  become  at  all  tranquil,  a  tap  at  my  door 
announced  that  another  gentleman,  Mr.  O'Callaghan,  the 
banker,  waited  to  see  me  in  the  salon. 

I  instantly  disengaged  myself  from  my  children,  and  rose  to 
attend  him,  although  trembling  with  an  undefinable  mixture  of 
hope  and  fear,  as  though,  in  doing  so,  I  were  either  about  to 
consummate  my  evil  destiny  or  to  emancipate  myself  from  the 
power  of  Mrs.  Murphy. 

I  entered  the  salon  with  a  timidity  more  like  that  of  a  crimi- 
nal than  an  accuser.  No  fixed  purpose  was  in  my  thoughts ; 
nor  could  I  conjecture  what  part  I  might  be  called  to  bear. 

The  Murphys  were  already  there,  looking  with  fierce  astonish- 
ment and  ill-concealed  anxiety.  They  occupied  a  sofa  at  the 
upper  end  of  the  room,  and  the  banker  was  sitting  at  a  table  in 
the  centre  of  it,  with  ink  and  paper  before  him,  while  a  clerk 
i  stood  at  his  elbow,  awaiting  his  commands.  He  rose  at  my 
entrance,  and  advancing  towards  me,  said  in  a  low  voice — 
'Before  I  can  proceed  in  the  business  which  brings  me  here, 
madam,  it  is  necessary  that  I  should  have  a  few  minutes'  conver- 
sation with  you  in  private.' 

I  moved,  scarcely  knowing  whither,  towards  the  salU  d  man* 


234  HELEN  MULGRAVE;  OK, 

ger,  where,  encountering  my  would-be  jailer,  M.  Le  Soutien,  I 
was  at  a  loss  to  know  what  to  do  with  him,  as  the  banker  had 
requested  to  speak  to  me  alone.  But  Mr.  O'Callaghan  disposed 
of  him  very  summarily,  by  saying — 'are  you  here,  Le  Soutien? 
be  good  enough  to  retire  for  a  few  minutes  to  the  ante-chamber.' 
As  Le  Soutien  left  the  room,  Mr.  O'Callaghan  closed  the  door 
after  him,  and  handed  me  to  a  chair.  He  then  took  a  seat,  and 
addressing  me  with  a  courtesy  of  manner  quite  unexpected, 
said — '  After  you  left  my  office,  madam,  two  days  ago,  your  name 
struck  me  as  one  that  I  ought  to  be  acquainted  with.  I  hope 
you  will- pardon  the  liberty  I  take,  when  I  beg  to  know  if  you 
are  related  to  the  late  Mr.  Frederic  Fitzgerald,  of  Beech  Park, 
in  the  county  of ,  Ireland  ?' . 

'  I  am  the  widow  of  Mr.  Fitzgerald,  of  Beech  Park.' 

He  started  from  his  seat,  exclaiming — '  Can  it  be  possible  I 
Mr.  Fitzgerald  married  a  daughter  of  the  late  Sir  William 
Mulgrave  1' 

'  I  am  that  unhappy  person.1 

4  Have  I  then  the  honour  of  addressing  a  daughter  of  Sir  "Wil- 
liam Mulgrave,  and  Mrs.  Fitzgerald,  of  Beech  Park  ?' 

He  clasped  his  hands  together,  and  looking  round  the  room, 
exclaimed — '  How  is  it  possible,  madam,  that  a  lady  of  your  con- 
dition can  have  lived  in  this  house.' 

Eecollecting  what  Monsieur  de  Carryfort  had  said  respecting 
the  dubious  character  of  the  Murphys,  I  felt  it  necessary,  in 
order  to  defend  myself  from  probable  injurious  inferences, 
frankly  to  mention  my  reduced  circumstances,  and  to  state  with 
what  views  I  had  come  to  Paris — my  disappointment  on  the  day 
of  my  arrival,  and  the  pressure  of  difficulties  under  which  I  had 
been  compelled  to  accept  a  temporary  shelter  in  Mrs.  Murphy's 
house. 

'  I  had  imagined,'  said  I,  '  that  as  my  hostess  was  a  country- 
woman of  mine,  her  house  would  at  least  be  reputable  and  safe, 
whatever  else  it  might  not  be.  When  I  discovered  my  mistake, 
it  was  too  late  to  rectify  it,  and  I  have  since  been  detained  here 
by  compulsion,  But  from  having  lived  entirely  apart  from  the 
principals  of  the  house,  I  know  so  little  of  them,  that  I  could 
hardly  dare  to  pronounce  sentence  on  them  from  anything  I  hava 


JESUIT   JSXECUTORSHrP.  235 

seen.  I  have,  however,  apprehensions  respecting  them  too 
alarming  to  be  expressed.  Yet,  alas !  I  cannot  get  away.' 

'  Madam,'  said  Mr.  O'Callaghan,  '  I  had  the  honour  to  know 
Sir  William  Mulgrave,  from  his  having  banked  with  me  when  he 
Avas  in  Paris,  a  few  years  since,  and  the  very  great  respect  with 
which  he  inspired  me  makes  me  desirous  of  being  useful  to  his 
daughter.  If  there  is  anything  in  which  I  can  serve  you, 
madam,  I  beg  you  to  command  me.  Shall  I  be  deemed  imper- 
tinent, if,  after  your  obliging  frankness  with  me,  I  inquire 
whether  you  are  in  debt  to  Mrs.  Murphy  ?' 

I  explained  to  him  my  exact  position  in  that  respect,  not  omit- 
ting to  state  what  had  just  passed  on  the  part  of  M.  Le  Soutien, 
and  the  terror  in  which  he  had  put  me  by  his  menaces  of  a 
debtors'  jail. 

'Good  God!'  he  ejaculated,  'the  man  must  be  mad!  But 
you  must  leave  this  "  den  of  thieves,"  madam,  and  that  without 
delay.  It  is  no  place  for  you  to  remain  in  another  hour — the 
Murphys  are  notorious  for  a  swindling  transaction,  which  took 
place  here  not  long  since,  and  which  was  reported  in  all  the 
journals  of  the  day.  As  by  the  forgery  of  your  name  to  a 
document  passing  through  my  house  you  have  been  most 
seriously  inconvenienced,  you  must  allow  me  at  once  to  advance 
the  amount  of  your  draft.' 

I  had  begun  to  reply,  but  he  stopped  me  by  saying — '  Do  not 
concern  yourself,  madam,  on  my  account,  I  will  take  care  to 
refund  myself,  and,  as  I  have  no  doubt,  by  discovering  the 
author  of  the  forgery.  Excuse  me  for  a  moment ;  I  must  speak 
to  M.  Le  Soutien,  who  occasionally  does  business  for  me.' 

He  went  into  the  antechamber  to  him,  and  on  returning, 
inquired  if  I  knew  of  any  house  to  which  I  might  remove,  on 
leaving  Mrs.  Murphy's.  I  informed  him  of  Madame  de  Corbiere's 
pension.  He  inquired  if  I  knew  anything  of  her,  and  when  I 
said  nothing,  but  as  the  mistress  of  a  boarding-school,  he  replied 
— '  I  recollect  her  now,  and  I  believe  you  may  trust  yourself 
there.' 

'  And  now,  madam,'  he  continued, '  I  hope  you  will  not  con- 
sider me  presuming,  if  I  advise  you  to  let  me  settle  with  the 
Murphys  the  amount  of  your  bill.  Le  Soutien  tells  me,  that  in 


236  HELEN  MULURAVE;  OR, 

the  memorandum  they  have  furnished  him  of  your  debt  to  them, 
they  have  overcharged  you,  as  he  has  learnt  from  yourself.  But 
if  you  will  inform  me  precisely  how  much  you  owe  them,  I  will 
take  care  they  shall  not  be  paid  more  than  their  due.' 

I  explained  the  account  to  him,  and  after  thanking  him  with 
heart-felt  gratitude  for  his  services,  which  he  would  not  acknow- 
ledge as  such,  I  returned  with  him  to  the  salon  in  which  we  had 
left  the  Murphys.  Pausing  on  our  way  to  it,  he  said, — '  As  my 
time  must  necessarily  be  short  here,  I  beg  to  say  a  word  respec- 
ting your  departure,  which  I  hope  may  be  immediate,  as  I  could 
hardly  consider  you  personally  safe,  after  what  may  perhaps 
occur  in  the  coming  interview.  If  it  would  be  agreeable  to  yon 
to  remove  within  an  hour,  I  will  leave  my  clerk  here  to  assist 
your  departure.  Meantime,  lest  Madame  de  CorbieVe  should 
not  be  prepared  to  receive  you  so  promptly,  I  will  call  and 
inform  her  of  your  coming.' 

Oh,  how  grateful  to  me  was  this  kind  consideration !  how 
unexpected,  too  1  My  whole  being  seemed  changed.  I  attempted 
once  more  to  thank  Mr.  O'Callaghan,  but  he  would  not  allow  me. 

"When  we  re-entered  the  salon,  the  Murphys  were  precisely  in 
the  same  position  as  we  left  them.  As  Mr.  O'Callaghan  enter- 
ed with  me,  and  handed  me  to  a  chair,  they  looked  aghast  at 
each  other.  He  resumed  his  former  seat  at  the  table,  and  the 
clerk  placed  himself  at  his  elbow  as  before,  to  whom  he  said,  l  M 
Venier,  request  M.  Le  Soutien,  who  is  in  the  next  room,  to 
walk  in  here.' 

As  Le  Soutien  entered,  he  cast  a  sort  of  sheepish,  mortified 
look  at  me,  and  a  glance  of  affright  at  the  Murphys.  Mr. 
O'Callaghan  motioned  him  to  a  seat;  then,  turning  to  Mrs. 
Murphy,  he  said  sternly,  '  You,  madam,  I  presume,  answer  to 
the  name  of  Murphy  ?' 

She  bent  her  head  with  supreme  hauteur. 

'  You  have,  perhaps,  yet  to  learn,'  he  continued,  '  that  a  for- 
gery has  been  committed  in  a  draft  that  has  passed  through  my 
house,  in  which  this  lady;  Mrs.  Fitzgerald,  has  been  defrauded 
of  upwards  of  twelve  hundred  francs.  Is  this  information  now 
communicated  to  you  for  the  first  time,  or  have  you  heard  of 
the  affair  before  ?' 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSHIP.  237 

The  querist  looked  from  the  mother  to  the  daughter,  while 
Mrs.  Murphy  became  deadly  pale,  and  her  daughter  busy  with  a 
smelling  bottle.  An  appalling  silence  of  a  few  minutes  ensued  ; 
but  recovering  themselves,  they  both  exclaimed,  that  it  was 
insulting  to  put  such  questions  to  them ;  what  had  they  to  do 
with  the  forgery  ?  were  they  to  be  treated  thus  in  their  own 
house  ?  and,  with  a  violent  movement  on  Mrs.  Murphy's  part,  she 
rose  from  her  seat,  her  daughter  following  her  example,  and 
both  attempted  to  leave  the  room. 

This  was  not  permitted.  A  whisper  from  the  clerk  had  fixed 
the  attention  of  the  banker  on  Miss  Murphy,  and  in  a  tone  more 
authoritative  than  courteous,  he  desired  them  both  to  resume 
their  seats.  The  little  lawyer  had  sprung  up  to  open  the  door 
for  them ;  but  he  also  was  commanded  to  return  to  his  seat. 

The  clerk  then,  addressing  Miss  Murphy,  inquired  if  she  did 
not  remember  to  have  seen  him,  some  weeks  before,  in  his  office 
at  Mr.  O'Callaghan's  bank.  She  first  hesitated,  then  denied, 
and  at  last  told  him  that  he  was  '  an  impertinent  fellow.' 

The  clerk  then,  without  further  circumlocution,  told  her  he 
was  ready  to  make  oath  to  her  having  received,  from  his  hands, 
the  amount  of  the  draft  in  question ;  for  which  he  had  taken  a 
receipt  from  her,  which  she  had  signed  in  his  presence,  '  Helen 
Fitzgerald.' 

As  the  clerk  ceased  speaking,  Mr.  O'Callaghan  exclaimed, 
'  Your  evidence,  M.  Venier,  is  decisive ;  but  it  must  be  given  in 
a  different  court.  Our  path  is  now  clear.  Miss  Murphy  must 
appear  before  the  proper  authorities.  You,  M.  Le  Soutein,  as  a 
man  of  law,  in  my  service,  must  direct  the  proceedings,  and 
adjourn  with  us  to  a  legal  tribunal.  We  have  police  officials 
already  on  the  premises ;  I  found  them  on  duty  here,  on  my 
arrival,  awaiting  Mrs.  Murphy's  orders;  they  are  now  under 
mine.' 

Mr.  O'Callaghan  had  scarcely  uttered  these  words,  when  both 
mother  and  daughter,  looking  wildly  round,  fell  at  the  same 
instant  on  their  knees  before  him,  uttering  a  vociferous  and  pas- 
sionate entreaty  for  mercy,  so  much  at  variance  with  their  looks 
of  defiance,  as  to  give  a  tragi-comic  air  to  the  part  they  were 
performing,  and  render  their  deprecatory  denials  and  their  prof- 


238  HELEN    MULORAVE  ;    OR, 

fers  of  restitution  at  once  contradictory  and  ludicrous.  As  Mr. 
O'Callaghan  continued,  in  spite  of  all  this,  to  look  severe  and 
firm,  tears,  faintings,  and  hysterics  were  tried,  but  iu  vain, 
either  to  excite  his  sympathy  or  obtain  his  civility. 

Coolly  allowing  them  to  exhaust  themselves  after  their  own 
fashion,  he  awaited  a  pause,  which  at  length  enabled  him  to 
say,  '  Mrs.  Murphy,  yon  kneel  to  me  as  if  I  had  the  power  to 
pardon  your  daughter's  offence,  or  remit  the  punishment  of  it. 
I  have  no  such  power.  I  would  have  the  affair  carried  into  a 
court  of  justice,  and  let  the  law  take  its  course ;  but  if  you 
would  avert  that  proceeding  and  its  consequences,  you  must 
kneel  to  Mra.  Fitzgerald — not  to  me.  She  is  the  injured  party, 
and  the  only  one  whose  province  it  is  to  decide  on  the  next  step 
to  be  taken.  If  you  can  prevail  on  her,  by  confession  and  resti- 
tution, to  obliterate  the  wrong  you  have  done  her,  I  certainly 
will  not  impede  the  exercise  of  her  clemency;  but  you  must 
decide  quickly,  as  I  have  no  more  time  to  waste  on  your  inde- 
cision.' 

After  waiting  their  reply  some  minutes  longer,  Mr.  O'Calla- 
ghan's  forbearance  was  exhausted,  and  he  desired  M.  Le  Soutien 
to  call  in  tihe  police.  Frightened  at  his  vehemence,  the  Mur- 
phys  turned  themselves  round  on  their  knees  towards  me,  and 
with  their  faces  covered  with  their  hands,  howled  out  a  jargon 
of  words,  utterly  unintelligible. 

Mr.  O'Callaghan,  perceiving  that  this  mode  of.  procedure  was 
but  an  evasion  of  his  requirement,  exclaimed  impetuously,  that 
he  would  have  no  mincing  of  the  matter,  and  that  if  they  were 
not  prepared  to  offer  at  once  a  suitable  and  satisfactory  submis- 
sion and  acknowledgment  of  the  wrong  they  had  done,  he  would 
terminate  the  scene. 

Then,  turning  to  Miss  Murphy,  he  said,  '  Allow  me  to  be  your 
prompter,  in  this  one  act  of  your  drama.  You  must  say  to  that 
lady,  that  although  you  have  committed  the  forgery,  you  are 
sorry  for  it ;  but  that  if  she  will  allow  the  affair  to  be  settled, 
without  carrying  it  into  a  court  of  justice,  you  will  make  any 
reparation  that  she  may  dictate.  If  you  are  unable  to  speak, 
said  he,  bow  your  heads,  ladies  (in  acquiescence  in  my  demand), 
to  Mrs.  Fitzgerald.' 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  239 

They  both  bent  their  heads  lowly,  though  not  to  me.  But 
Mr.  O'Callaghan,  seemingly  still  dissatisfied  with  their  conces- 
sion, turned  to  me,  and  assuming  the  air  and  verbal  form  of  an 
officer  in  a  court  of  justice,  said,  'How  say  you,  madam  ?  Pro- 
secution, or  no  prosecution  ?  Shall  I  hand  these  respectable 
ladies  to  the  police  officers  or  not,  madam  ?' 

There  was  something  irresistibly  ludicrous  in  the  whole  scene, 
but  especially  in  Mr.  O'Callaghan's  manner  and  look,  as  he  thus 
apealed  to  me ;  but  I  briefly  replied,  that  I  left  the  affair  entire- 
ly in  his  hands,  without  the  remotest  wish  to  require  more  than 
he  might  think  due  to  me. 

4  You  do  me  much  honour,  madam,'  said  he,  and  turning  to 
the  Murphys,  who  still  remained  on  their  knees,  he  said,  '  It  is 
now  for  you  and  your  daughter,  Mrs.  Murphy,  to  accept  or 
reject  the  umpire  proposed  by  that  injured  lady.  "What  say 
you  ?  will  you  abide  by  my  sentence  or  not  ?  Yes,  or  no  ?' 

They  both  replied,  faintly,  '  Yes.' 

4  You  and  your  daughter  may  rise,  then,  Mrs.  Murphy,  and 
take  your  seats.  I  have  no  more  to  say  to  you  at  this  moment, 
as  it  will  be  necessary  for  me  to  consider,  before  I  can  decide 
on  what  terms  I  shall  advise  Mrs.  Fitzgerald  to  obliterate  the 
wrong  that  has  been  done  her,  and  to  suffer  your  daughter  to 
escape  its  consequences.  Meantime,  I  shall  leave  the  police, 
whom  I  found  at  your  door,  in  charge  of  your  premises  and  of 
yourselves,  until  my  return.' 

Mr.  O'Callaghan  then  wrote  me  a  cheque  on  his  bank  for  the 
full  amount  of  my  draft,  and  handing  it  to  me,  said,  '  I  shall 
have  the  honour  of  calling  on  you,  madam,  as  soon  as  I  have 
despatched  the  affair  here.' 

He  then  took  his  leave,  leaning  on  Le  Soutien's  arm,  whom 
he  took  with  him,  saying  aloud  to  his  clerk,  that  he'  was  to  await 
Mrs.  Fitzgerald's  commands  in  the  antechamber.  • 

Their  departure  was  the  signal  for  a  change  of  characters. 
No  sooner  was  the  door  closed,  than  Mrs.  Mnrphy,  with  a 
ghastly  look  of  rage  and  bitterness — notwithstanding  her  recent 
abjectness — rose,  and,  striding  across  the  room  before  I  had 
time  to  get  out  of  it,  attempted  to  fasten  the  door.  Not  suc- 
ceeding in  her  attempt,  she  placed  herself  full  before  it,  exclaim- 


240  HELEN    MULORAVE  ;    OR, 

ing,  in  one  of  her  fiercest  tones — '  Murderess,  by  inheritance, 
of  all  my  fame  and  fortune !  Destroyer  of  my  daughter !  Why 
am  I  thus  become  your  victim — at  the  moment,  too,  when  fate 
had  made  you  mine  ?  What  are  your  powers,  or  those  of  all 
your  race  combined,  that  /should  thus  be  foiled  by  you  ?  You 
— a  moping,  spiritless,  and  fair-faced  heretic  and  beggar;  void 
of  all  energy  and  enterprise,  which  might  have  made  you  wor- 
thy of  the  hate  I  bear  to  every  drop  of  your  proud  father's 
blood!  We  fed  at  the  same  breast — we  grew  together;  he  at 
first  was  kind,  and  afterwards  disdained  me.  For  this,  'twas 
joy  to  see  his  house  destroyed — his  offspring  blighted  like 
untimely  fruit — and  every  one  of  his  once  worshipped  name 
withered,  or  withering,  beneath  my  vengeance !  For  I  had 
power  to  undermine  your  haughty  father — ay,  and  your  witless 
husband,  too  I  I  have  a  sphere  unknown  to  you.  And  bliss  it 
was  to  see  my  prospects  prosper — to  see  Fitzgerald  loathe  the 
joys  of  home,  and  a  soft  wife,  so  dutiful,  she  knew  not  how  to 
resent  her  own  deep  wrongs !  And  Fate,  to  crown  me  with  a 
final  triumph,  sent  you  to  Paris — threw  you  and  yours  within 
my  walls.  If  I  have  griped  you  hard, — say,  Margaret  Murphy 
has  a  constant  heart,  that  never  yet  forgot  an  injury,  or  shrank 
to  do  the  bidding  of  her  church.  Call  up  your  hated  father 
from  his  grave — bid  him,  too,  answer,  for  what  you  have  suffer- 
ed. His  haughty  nature  spurned  me  and  my  faculties — ay,  I 
was  scorned — and  in  such  sort,  that  my  last  breath  shall  still  be 
hot  with  the  remembrance !  My  deep  revenge  was  well-nigh 
sated ;  you  and  yours  were  in  my  toils,  whence  you  had  never 
made  escape,  but  for  those  paltry  francs,  which  for  their  own 
sake  I  disdained,  and  only  saw  in  their  embezzlement  your  ruin  ! 
What  angel,  or  what  demon,  taught  you  to  traverse  thus  my 
schemes  ?  thus'  to  arrange  inquisitorial  plans,  and  brand  my 
daughter  with  the  hangman's  mark  on  my  own  hearth  ?  But 
you  shall  pay  for  this.  Go  where  you  seek  to  go — take  your 
own  course  ;  I  will  pursue  you  still,  and  still  with  fiercer  hate, 
because  in  your  own  person  you  have  become  my  evil  genius ; 
and  in  this  foreign  land,  where  I  was  living  in  a  sort  of  peace, 
with  an  habitual  and  composed  revenge,  awaiting  but  my 
moment,  you  have  disturbed  my  plans,  and  turned  a  victory  all 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSHIP.  241 

but  won,  to  a  defeat  that  wakes  the  demon  in  me !  Look  to 
yourself — for  wheresoever  you  direct  your  steps,  my  curse  is  on 
you,  and  my  spirit  near,  to  wake  the  elements  of  destruction 
round  you,  and  set  them  into  play.  Why  do  you  gape,  and 
look  in  wonder  on  my  words  ?  they  are  but  faint  precursors  of 
the  deeds  that  soon  shall  follow.  Those  looks  of  yours  would 
seem  to  say,  you  pity  me.  I  am  not  mad.  Take  back  your 
boon,  detested  as  yourself!  If  I  was  formed  with  powers  of 
highest  soaring,  and  disdained  the  low  condition  of  my  race, 
why  was  it  so  ?  What  had  I  done,  that  they  whom  nature  made 
inferior,  should  take  a  stand  above  me?  'Tis  but  the  natural 
course  of  power  pressed  down  and  caged  in  iron  poverty,  to 
break  the  bounds  that  circumscribe  its  energies,  and  level  it 
with  the  dust.  But  why  talk  thus  to  you?  You,  who  know 
not  lofty  thoughts — you,  in  sweet  humility  and  resignation, 
yield  to  every  hand  that  strikes,  with  hateful  meekness ;  kissing 
oppression,  to  bribe  the  angels  of  your  pious  dreams  I  Begone ! 
I  say;  nor  ever  blast  me  with  your  sight  again.  'Twill  bo 
enough  for  me  to  hear  of  your  extinction :  to  see  it,  were  a  plea- 
sure that  would  kill  me  with  its  joy !' 

In  giving  utterance  to  this  last  sentence,  with  an  increased 
exaltation  of  tone,  the  speaker  had  thrown  into  it  such  an 
excess  of  rage  as  to  exhaust  herself  of  breath ;  and  as  she  stood 
with  her  right  arm  extended,  and  her  form  drawn  up,  panting 
for  respiration,  in  an  attitude  of  impassioned  execration,  she 
looked  like  some  fabulous  impersonation  of  Evil,  in  a  moment 
of  frenzy.  Although  I  had  been  penetrated  with  terror  by  the 
import  and  violence  of  her  harangue,  wondering  how  it  would 
end,  I  was  fully  alive  to  the  sort  of  demoniac  grandeur  which 
marked  her  commanding  features  and  figure,  as  she  stood  before 
mo,  suggesting  thoughts  of  an  unearthly  and  irresistible  power. 

But  in  the  next  moment,  the  Pythoness  was  reduced  to  the 
level  of  ordinary  mortals,  by  throwing  herself  into  the  arms  of 
her  daughter,  in  a  screaming  paroxysm  of  hysterics.  As. this 
movement  left  the  door  unguarded,  it  afforded  me  an  opportu- 
nity of  escaping  out  of  the  room ;  and  I  was  in  a  moment  after 
in  my  chamber,  with  my  deserted  children. 

As  I  clasped  them  in  my  arms,  and  recalled  all  that  had 

11 


242  HELEN  MULORAVK;  OR, 

occurred  within  the  last  hoar,  I  scarcely  believed  in  my  own 
identity.  To  have  been  rescued  from  the  destruction  prepared 
for  me,  after  having  approached  the  very  brink  of  an  evil  so 
fearful  as  that  of  imprisonment,  and  an  inevitable  separation 
from  my  children,  seemed  incredible,  or  miraculous.  And  yet  it 
had  been  effected,  and  by  an  agency  which  I  had  not  foreseen. 

This  deliverance  was  the  sweeter  to  me,  that  it  had  originated, 
though  remotely,  from  the  influence  of  my  dear  father's  charac- 
ter. I  was  not  the  less  indebted,  however,  to  the  justice  and 
the  courtesy  of  Mr.  O'Callaghan,  to  whom  I  must  feel  for  ever 
bound,  by  sentiments  of  the  deepest  gratitude. 

My  children  were  delighted  at  the  idea  of  leaving  so  horrid 
an  abode,  and  eagerly  lent  me  such  assistance  as  was  in  their 
power.  With  the  additional  aid  of  the  servant,  my  packing  was 
soon  effected ;  while  the  presence  of  Mr.  O'Callaghan's  clerk,  in 
the  ante-chamber,  no  doubt  preserved  me  from  outrages  which 
might  otherwise  have  been  offered  me.  I  deputed  him  to  carry 
my  farewell  to  the  Murphys,  and  to  inquire  if  there  was 
anything  which  they  desired  of  me,  before  nay  departure.  But 
they  would  not  vouchsafe  him  a  reply ;  and  without  further 
delay,  my  children,  and  myself,  passing  by  the  police  officers  on 
the  landing,  descended  those  long  flights  of  stairs,  which  I  never 
saw  again. 

As  the  gate  of  the  h6tel  closed  after  us,  I  felt  like  a  bird 
escaping  from  the  snare  of  the  fowler.  I  was  once  more  in  pos- 
session of  myself;  even  the  phantoms  conjured  up  by  the 
menaces  I  had  so  lately  heard  were,  for  the  moment,  all  left 
•within  the  gate. 

I  had  sent  my  baggage  forward  in  a  fiacre  to  Madame  de 
Corbiere's  residence,  in  the  Rue  d'Angouleme,  under  convoy  of 
Mr.  O'Callaghan's  clerk,  myself  and  children,  with  some  small 
parcels  in  our  hands,  following  after  as  quickly  as  we  could.  To 
shorten  the  distance,  we  had  turned  into  the  Allee  des  Veuves, 
intending  to  proceed  by  the  Rue  Ponthieu.  As  we  made  a 
short  turn  of  the  Allee,  we  came  in  sight  of  a  figure  which 
painfully  arrested  my  attention,  and  which  could  not  be  mis- 
taken. It  was  that  of  Father  Renel,  the  Jesuit  executor.  As 
he  was  walking-  before  us,  he  knew  not  that  we  were  in  his  rear ; 


JESDIT    EXECUTORSHIP.  243 

bnt  turning  his  head,  he  recognised  us,  and  shot  at  once  into  a 
narrow  path  leading  towards  the  Rue  St.  Honore,  where  we  lost 
sight  of  him.  Although  I  could  have  wished,  at  this  moment, 
to  importune  the  Jesuit  respecting  my  son,  the  sight  of  him,  and 
the  certainty  of  his  identity,  palsied  my  limbs  and  curdled  my 
blood,  as  the  rushing  recollection  of  his  deeds,  and  the  ruin  he 
had  brought  on  my  house,  came  over  me  with  a  crushing  feeling 
of  their  ever-increasing  reality. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

WHEN  we  arrived  at  Madame  de  Corbiere's  residence,  I  found 
that  Mr.  O'Callaghan  had  not  forgotten  to  apprize  her  of  our 
coming ;  and  we  were  welcomed  by  her  with  more  kindness 
than  I  had  expected.  As  we  were  too  late  for  the  dinner  of  the 
refectoire,  we  were  invited  to  dine  in  the  aalle  d  manger,  at  six 
o  clock,  where  I  was  to  meet  the  whole  family  party,  consisting 
of  both  French  and  English  ladies,  who  were  living  in  the 
establishment  as  pensionnaires  en  cJiambres.  I  employed  the 
interval,  until  dinner  time,  in  arranging  my  own  apartment,  in 
which  I  found  so  many  comforts  of  which  I  had  been  destitute 
at  the  Murphys,  that  I  felt  myself,  in  comparison,  almost  luxu- 
riously accommodated. 

The  fatiguing  events  of  the  day  brought  sweet  sleep  to  my  pil- 
low that  night ;  and  when  I  awoke  next  morning,  and  beheld 
the  sun  peeping,  though  faintly,  into  my  chamber,  I  had  a  feel- 
ing of  happiness  that  had  been  long  unknown  to  me,  in  which 
my  children  evidently  participated. 

At  the  Murphys,  without  ever  complaining  of  the  discomforts 
around  them,  they  seemed  always  in  a  state  of  subdued  feeling, 
Avhich  caused  them  to  repress  every  childish  sally,  and  keep  a 
fnrt  of  terrified  vigil  on  the  looks  and  movements  of  the  princi- 
pals of  the  house,  whenever  they  were  in  sight.  On  this  morn- 
ing, they  were  full  of  frolic  and  fun,  pointing  out  and  remarking 
on  the  new  objects  around  them. 


244  HELEN    MULGRAVE  ;    OR, 

The  events,  if  I  may  so  call  them,  of  the  last  twenty-four 
hours,  had  so  completely  changed  not  only  my  position,  but 
myself,  that  I  was  joyfully  bewildered  by  the  transforma- 
tion. 

I  felt  once  more  the  exhilaration  of  hope,  and,  under  its  influ- 
ence, imagination  leaped  over  difficulties  which  yesterday 
seemed  insurmountable.  I  had  been  put  into  possession.of  funds 
which  I  had  thought  lost ;  and  I  had  now  the  means  of  at  least 
a  temporary  subsistence. 

This  was  too  great  an  occurrence  to  be  cast  into  shade,  even 
by  the  discovery  that  had  been  made,  in  Mrs.  Murphy's  revela- 
tions of  herself,  of  the  identical  '  demon-woman '  who  had  so 
long  been  the  evil  spirit  of  my  father's  house.  As  fancy  recalled 
her,  in  all  the  strength  of  her  unprincipled  power,  with  a 
vaunted  confidence  in  herself  of  an  ultimate  triumph  over  me, 
my  heart  indeed  sickened  again ;  for  I  could  not  but  foresee  that 
whatever  might  be  the  final  result  of  a  malevolence  without 
bounds,  my  path  must  henceforth  be  incessantly  haunted  by 
imaginary  as  well  as  real  evils,  and  all  my  efforts  to  sustain 
myself  and  family  might  still  be  perpetually  thwarted  by  an 
unseen  hand. 

Stranger  as  I  was,  in  a  strange  land,  she  might  already  have 
organized  means  for  my  destruction,  of  which  it  was  impossible 
for  me  to  make  myself  cognizant  by  any  vigil  that  I  could  keep ; 
even  in  removing  to  a  distance  from  her,  might  I  not  have  given 
greater  scope  to  her  fierce  and  unwieldy  vengeance  ?  If  while 
living  in  affluence  in  the  bosom  of  my  family,  in  my  native  land, 
herself  unknown  to  me,  and  without  any  visible  connexion  with 
rne,  she  had  been  able  to  penetrate  into  the  sanctuary  of  my 
domestic  circle,  and  to  exercise  there  an  influence  so  destructive 
as  that  of  which  she  had  boasted, — what  might  not  now  be 
apprehended  from  her  resentment,  on  account  of  that  personal 
offence  which  I  had  committed  in  bringing  to  light  her  daugh- 
ter's criminality  ? 

I  was  so  utterly  defenceless,  that  if  she  should  be  in  league 
with  the  Jesuit,  and  attempt  what  she  threatened,  I  should  bo 
irretrievably  lost.  How  entirely  different  would  have  been  now 
my  position,  had  I  obtained  from  Monsieur  de  Carryfort  the  ser- 


JESUIT   EXKCUTORSHIP.  245 

vices  he  could  so   easily  have  rendered    me,   without  effort 
and  without  cost  to  himself. 

In  my  first  interview  with  Madame  de  Corbiere,  I  perceived 
that  my  name  was  well  known  to  her,  yet  I  could  discern  no  link 
between  the  two  families.  Madame  de  Corbiere  had  made  no 
objections  to  receive  me,  yet  I  now  recollecte'd  that  she  was  cold 
and  brusque  in  her  manner,  as  though  my  becoming  her 
boarder  was  not  an  arrangement  perfectly  cordial  to  her.  Mr. 
O'Callaghan's  interest  in  my  welfare  must  doubtless  have  influ- 
enced her ;  but  what  prejudices  might  she  not  already  have  con- 
ceived against  me  ?  All  this  was  but  conjecture,  still,  perhaps, 
short  of  reality,  as  nothing  seemed  too  extravagant  or  too  atro- 
cious for  the  Murphys  to  commit. 

Had  we  more  faith  in  the  invisible  world,  our  souls  would 
not  be  without  anchor  when  the  storms  of  life  are  passing  over 
us.  In  the  events  of  the  past  day,  I  had  been  made,  in  some 
measure,  the  avenger  of  my  own  and  my  family's  wrongs,  with- 
out the  guilt  of  contriving  or  desiring  such  a  triumph.  Might  I 
not  consider  this  to  be  an  omen  of  good  to  me,  and  an  instance 
of  that  unseen  influence  in  human  affairs,  of  which,  in  contem- 
plating the  events  of  life,  we  see  such  frequent  proof? 

Before  entering  upon  the  course  of  occupation  which  I  had 
prescribed  for  myaelf  in  my  new  domicile,  I  wrote  to  Monsieur 
de  Carryfort  a  simple  relation  of  the  discoveries  I  had  made 
respecting  the  Murphys,  and  of  the  identity  of  Murphy  herself 
with  Brian,  my  father's  foster-sister.  I  entreated  him  to  allow 
me  one  more  interview,  that  I  might  be  able  to  discuss  with 
him,  whether  or  not  any  steps  should  be  taken  against  Murphy, 
and  the  Irish  priest  connected  with  her,  relative  to  the  burglary 
with  which  they  had  been  formerly  charged  by  my  father. 

I  carried  my  note  myself  to  the  porter's  lodge  of  my  uncle's 
hotel,  that  I  might  be  certain  of  its  safe  delivery.  On  presen- 
ting it,  I  was  informed  that  he  had  gone,  a  week  since,  to  the 
south,  for  the  winter.  I  obtained  his  address,  but  ascertaining 
that  he  was  not  likely  to  remain  stationary  in  any  place,  it 
appeared  useless  to  forward  my  letter  to  him. 

As  it  was  impossible  for  me,  without  my  uncle,  to  attempt 
any  chastisement  of  Murphy  and  her  accomplice,  I  dismissed 


246  HELKN  MULGRAVE;  OR, 

the  subject,  for  the  present,  from  my  thoughts,  with  the  full 
purpose  of  devoting  myself  unreservedly  to  the  pressing  duty 
of  advancing  my  children's  education.  Being  in  a  house  of 
education,  I  had,  of  course,  many  accessories  to  aid  me  in 
attaining  this  object. 

There  were  several  English  ladies,  with  their  children,  living 
at  Madame  de  Corbiere's  with  the  same  object  as  myself.  But 
I  had  not  the  advantage  of  intercourse  with  them,  being  severed 
from  their  society  by  having  been  received  on  lower  terms  than 
they,  in  consideration  of  my  eating  in  the  refectoire,  with  the 
pupils  of  the  establishment,  instead  of  in  the  salle  d  manger, 
with  the  principals  of  the  house,  as  is  customary  with  the  pen- 
sionnaires  en  chambres. 

On  the  second  day  of  my  residence  with  Madame  de  Corbi^re, 
I  received  a  visit  from  Mr.  O'Callaghan,  who  came  to  give  me 
an  account  of  the  terms  on  which  he  had  settled  my  affair  with 
the  Murphys.  They  had  promptly  paid  him  the  amount  of  the 
draft,  in  consideration  of  which  he  had  withdrawn  the  police 
from  their  house,  and  left  them  free.  They  had  also  readily 
deducted  the  overcharge  they  had  made  on  me,  amounting  to 
considerably  more  than  half  the  sum  they  had  at  first  demanded, 
and  I  was  really  happy  to  have  had  this  affair  settled  without  a 
prosecution. 

As  Mr.  O'Callaghan  had  performed  the  part  of  a  real  friend, 
and  proved  himself  in  every  respect  worthy  of  my  confidence 
as  well  as  my  gratitude,  I  made  a  short  recital  to  him  of  Mrs. 
Murphy's  real  history  ;  on  hearing  which,  he  expressed  strong 
regrets  that  he  had  not  known  it  before  ;  as  it  was,  he  said,  an 
omission  of  duty  to  society,  to  suffer,  such  a  wretch  to  escape 
the  vengeance  of  the  law.  Nevertheless,  on  reflection,  he  feared 
that  although  by  a  prosecution  the  daughter  would  have  been 
disposed  of,  and  prevented  from  committing  further  mischief, 
yet  the  mother,  being  left  at  large,  might  have  continued  to  be  a 
perpetual,  and  more  incorrigible  annoyance  than  ever  ;  so  that 
perhaps,  it  was  best  as  it  was,  and  he  fervently  hoped  I  might 
hear  no  more  of  them. 

I  could  not  conclude  our  interview  without  some  expression 
of  gratitude  for  the  debt  I  owed  him,  as  my  deliverer  from  the 


JESUIT    EXECUTOR8HIP.  247 

den  in  which  he  found  me.  But  he  declined  all  acknowledg- 
ment, assuring  me  that  he  should  feel  eternally  indebted  to  the 
chance  that  had  enabled  him  to  be  of  service  to  so  near  a  rela- 
tive of  the  late  Sir  William  Mulgrave. 

We  were  usually  summoned  to  the  dinner  in  the  refectoire 
by  a  bell,  at  one  o'clock.  After  I  had  been  about  a  week  at 
Madame  de  Corbi6re's,  I  one  day  entered  this  cold  and  com- 
fortless room,  with  my  two  children,  and  was  motioned  by  the 
female  at  the  head  of  the  table,  a  person  whom  I  had  never  seen 
before,  to  a  seat  reserved  for  me.  As  I  was  taking  possession  of 
it,  I  looked  round  the  circle  to  discover  my  children,  who  had 
been  separated  from  me,  when,  to  my  inexpressible  surprise  and 
horror,  my  eyes  fell  on  that  very  being  who,  in  the  whole  crea- 
tion, I  least  wished  to  see.  It  was  Mrs.  Murphy,  seated  direct  ly 
opposite  to  me! 

My  sight  almost  failed  me ;  but  mustering  courage,  I  moved 
to  her  slightly,  a  courtesy  which  she  returned  with  a  look  that 
nearly  petrified  me.  Her  commanding  form  was  evidently 
swelling  with  feelings  that  sought  no  concealment  from  me. 
They  were,  nevertheless,  chastened  by  her  habitual  self-com- 
mand and  regulated  violence,  so  that  she  omitted  nothing  which 
was  due  either  to  the  place  or  the  companions  of  her  meal. 

But  her  presence  recalled  so  many  mystical  terrors,  that  all  the 
sunshine  of  my  thoughts  instantly  disappeared.  It  was  with 
difficulty  I  could  sustain  an  appearance  of  decent  composure. 

During  dinner,  Madame  de  Oorbiere  came  into  the  room,  and 
very  coldly  recognised  me ;  while,  as  if  to  make  me  sensible  of 
her  indifference,  she  lavished  on  Mrs.  Murphy  an  ostentatious 
courtesy.  All  this  was  a  portentous  preface  to  my  new  residence. 

Before  the  meal  ended,  I  had  the  additional  pang  of  learning, 
that  the  stranger  at  the  head  of  the  table  was  a  daughter  of  Mrs. 
Murphy's,  just  installed  as  the  English  teacher  of  the  establish- 
ment. Of  her  I  had  never  heard  before ;  and  her  being  brought 
into  the  house  at  this  time,  so  immediately  after  my  arrival  there, 
was  so  deliberate  an  hostility  to  myself,  that  I  could  not  but  fear 
everything  which  had  been  menaced  by  the  mother.  I  had  but 
just  cleared  one  pitfall,  when  I  found  myself  falling  into 
another. 


248  iiKusN  MULGRAVK;  OH, 

Madame  de  Corbi6re  appeared  to  be  in  strict  friendship  with 
my  avowed  enemy;  and  if  so,  I  was  more  than  ever  in  the 
power  of  that  enemy,  since  she  had  now  the  assistance  of  others, 
to  aid  her  in  the  accomplishment  of  her  purposes ;  and  they,  the 
persons  with  whom  I  had  deposited  my  safety  and  my  comfort. 

In  ruminating  on  my  position  during  the  hours  of  darkness,  I 
shuddered  at  the  perpetual  recurrence .  of  those  evil  chances 
which  pursued  me  everywhere,  and  which  no  foresight  seemed 
able  to  avert.  But  day  returned  to  suspend  reflection;  for 
though  Time  is  sometimes  taunted  as  a  lingerer,  nothing  stays 
his  flight.  I  lived  on  as  I  could,  endeavouring  to  shut  my  eyes 
against  the  future,  and  absorbing  myself  in  occupation,  as  the 
only  remedy  against  despair. 

Self-preservation,  as  well  as  neighbourly  duty,  seemed  to 
require  that  I  should  speak  to  Madame  de  Corbi6re  respecting 
Mrs.  Murphy ;  as  she  could  not  surely  know  with  whom  she  had 
connected  herself  and  her  school.  But  another  question  then 
occurred  to  me,  of,  Whom  may  Madame  de  Corbiere  herself  be  ? 
After  entertaining  all  the  pros  and  cons  of  the  question,  I  decided 
on  not  interfering  for  the  present  with  the  natural  course  of 
things. 

Some  two  or  three  weeks  had  passed  without  any  new  occur- 
rence, or  any  direct  communication  with  the  Murphys,  except 
such  as  was  unavoidable  with  her  who  daily  sat  at  table  with 
us. 

One  day,  on  entering  the  refectoire  at  the  customary  dinner- 
hour,  I  found  the  table  without  its  usual  head,'  and  the  little 
community  there  in  a  state  of  great  excitement.  Inquiring  the 
cause,  I  learnt  that  the  mother  of  the  English  teacher  had  been 
missing  from  her  home  two  days. 

Shortly  after  dinner  I  met  with  Madame  de  Corbi6re,  who, 
with  unwonted  courtesy,  stayed  to  converse  with  me,  and  to 
inform  me  more  particularly  of  what  had  befallen  Mrs.  Murphy ; 
for  whose  safety,  she  said,  her  daughters  entertained  the  most 
serious  apprehensions.  She  further  told  me,  that  the  unhappy 
woman,  the  night  before  her  disappearance,  had  had  a  bitter 
quarrel  with  a  man  who  was  an  Irish  priest,  and  who,  in  conse- 
quence of  heavy  losses  from  time  to  time  at  her  ecarte  tables, 


JESUIT   KXECUTOKSHIP.  249 

had  complained  openly  and  menacingly  of  fonl  play.  Madame 
de  Corbiere  expressed  a  becoming  sympathy  in  the  distress  of 
the  daughters,  but  professed  to  be  greatly  shocked  at  learning — 
as  she  said,  for  the  first  time — that  Mrs.  Murphy's  residence  was 
notorious  as  a  rendezvous  for  ecarte  players. 

As  I  had  unfortunately  been  an  inmate  of  that  residence,  I 
felt  it  necessary,  in  self  defence,  to  say,  that  during  the  time  I 
had  been  under  Mrs.  Murphy's  roof,  I  had  confined  myself  so 
entirely  to  my  own  apartment,  as  to  know  nothing  of  what 
passed  in  the  salons,  until  a  short  time  before  I  left. 

On  the  following  day,  the  wretched  woman  was  found  in  the 
fearful  '  Morgue.'  The  hand  of  violence  had  been  visibly  on  her 
— she  was  frightfully  mutilated;  and  a  considerable  sum  of 
money  that  she  had  about  her  person  when  she  left  her  house 
had  been  abstracted. 

Her  destruction  caused  the  downfall  of  her  daughters,  who, 
now  that  their  way  of  life  was  known,  were  obliged  to  hide 
themselves  from  the  few  respectable  persons  who  had  hitherto 
countenanced  them,  in  ignorance  of  what  they  were. 

For  me,  it  was  an  event  of  immense  moment.  I  saw  myself 
at  once  delivered  from  a  fiend,  who  believed  herself  to  hold  the 
very  cord  of  my  destiny.  For  many  weeks,  almost  months,  her 
appalling,  mysterious  form  had  been  crossing  my  path,  both  in 
my  sleeping  and  waking  hours,  now  assailing  me  in  one  shape, 
and  then  in  another.  But  all  at  once  the  hideous  phantom  dis- 
appears, and  is  seen  no  more. 

Human  existence  may  truly  be  called  a  vapour;  and  when  it 
is  passed  away,  what  an  illusion  seems  that  power,  which 
appeared  to  have  been  embodied  in  it ! 

That  I  was  not,  at  this  moment  of  horror,  under  the  roof  of 
the  Murphys,  compelled  unavoidably  to  see  and  to  hear  the 
details  of  the  bloody  tragedy,  and  perhaps  to  testify  to  the  most 
revolting  facts,  was  a  cause  of  inexpressible  rejoicing.  My  heart 
was  filled  with  gratitude,  and  I  lived  in  comparative  happiness  for 
many  weeks,  often  meditating  on  that  strange  influence  which  the 
wretched  Mrs.  Murphy  must  have  had  in  the  house  of  Madame 
de  Corbiere,  since  her  removal  had  changed  the  aspect  and  spirit 
of  the  whole  family,  towards  my  children,  as  well  as  myself. 

11* 


250  HELEN    MULGRAVE  ;    OR, 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

MY  eldest  daughter,  Dora,  was  between  eight  and  nine  years 
of  age,  and  Caroline  between  seven  and  eight.  Their  characters 
had  begun  to  assume  a  definite  cast ;  and  it  was  with  joy  unut- 
terable that  I  observed  also  a  development  of  mind  beginning  to 
manifest  itself,  full  of  promise  for  the  future,  by  which  I  might 
hope  to  be  restored  to  a  companionship  as  precious  as  that  from 
which  I  had  been  wrenched  in  my  early  years.  ~ 

In  this  delightful  anticipation,  the  sordid  cares  of  my  life  were 
sometimes  forgotten,  and  every  thought  was  suppressed,  except 
such  as  my  children's  happiness  and  amiability  inspired. 

They  began  to  bear  a  resemblance  to  my  dear  father.  There 
was  about  them  something  of  the  same  benignant  look  and  air, 
and,  alas !  also  the  same  fatal  disposition  to  give  away  whatever 
they  possessed  indiscriminately.  Had  I  not  been  so  straitened 
in  my  pecuniary  circumstances  as  to  make  the  most  minute  and 
odious  parsimony  a  duty,  how  beautiful,  under  suitable  regula- 
tion, might  this  trait  of  character  have  become,  at  an  age  when 
selfishness  and  covetousness  are  often  paramount. 

The  worn  and  mean  attire  of  my  children  seemed  unperceived 
by  them,  although  they  sometimes  counted  the  number  of  visi- 
ble darns  on  some  article  of  their  dress,  as  a  pretext  for  bestow- 
ing on  mamma  an  equal  number  of  kisses.  They  knew  not  that 
she  waked  at  night,  to  meditate  on  how  that  mended  attire  was 
to  be  replaced,  when  it  had  become  too  shattered  for  further 
repair.  The  grovelling  nature  of  incessant  pecuniary  cares 
debases  the  mind,  and  contracts  its  powers ;  and  that  hydra- 
headed  evil,  embodied  in  the  little  word  want,  so  unmeaning  on 
the  ear  of  plenty,  acts  like  a  torpedo  on  the  morbid  sense  of  him 
who  has  long  breathed  its  pestilent  atmosphere,  and  struggled 
with  it  on  his  own  hearth.  But  I  had  not  yet  experienced  all 
that  poverty  is  capable  of  inflicting.  I  had  never  been  a  house- 
]t-s  wanderer — had  never  literally  wanted  bread  to  satisfy  my 
hunger.  My  privations  had  principally  consisted  in  the  lack  of 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSHIP.  251 

those  things  which  the  habits  of  affluent  life  had  rendered  neces- 
saries. Now,  however,  I  approach  a  period  in  my  history  on 
which  I  cannot  look  back  without  shuddering,  although  it  has 
long  passed  away. 

When  I  first  entered  upon  a  residence  at  Madame  de  Cor- 
biere's,  the  funds  arising  from  my  recently  cashed  draft  had*ena- 
bled  me  to  discharge  Mrs.  Murphy's  debt,  and  also  to  pay 
Madame  de  Corbiere  a  quarter's  board  in  advance  for  myself  and 
children.  These  disbursements,  together  with  some  other  una- 
voidable expenditures,  had  now  nearly  exhausted  my  purse. 

But  as  my  next  remittance  would  become  due  within  a 
month,  my  anxiety  for  the  future  arose  principally  from  a  con- 
viction, that  in  Paris,  as  well  as  in  Ireland,  my  income  was,  and 
would  continue  to  be,  too  insufficient  to  supply  my  children  and 
myself  with  the  bare  necessaries  of  life,  whatever  frugality 
might  be  exercised  or  privations  imposed.  I  had,  indeed, 
already  carried  experiments  on  these  points  to  the  extremest 
severity,  so  that  there  was  no  further  aid  to  be  expected  from 
them. 

Nevertheless,  when  I  balanced  my  half  year's  account,  I  found 
a  deficit,  which,  though  trifling  in  itself,  afforded  sufficient  evi- 
dence that,  with  the  increasing  wants  of  my  children,  as  they 
grew  older,  it  must  in  no  long  time  bring  me  into  debt,  and  con- 
sequently to  ruin.  I  had  already  offered  my  services  to  Madame 
de  Corbiere,  as  a  teacher  in  her  establishment,  but  she  had 
demonstrated  to  me  by  calculation,  that  I  should  save  more  by 
continuing,  as  I  had  hitherto  done,  to  instruct  my  children 
myself,  in  my  own  apartment,  and  avoid  the  expenses  of  the 
school-room,  than  I  should  gain  by  filling  any  department  in  her 
house  as  a  teacher,  the  salary  she  gave  being  very  small. 

I  then  consulted  her  respecting  another  plan  that  I  had  form- 
ed ;  which  was  to  give  lessons  out  of  the  house,  in  private  fami- 
lies :  but  this  she  did  not  approve ;  and  as  without  her  recom- 
mendation I  should  be  unable  to  carry  such  a  scheme  into  prac- 
tice, I  was  compelled  to  relinquish  it. 

Had  Mr.  O'Callaghan  been  a  married  man,  I  would  have  soli- 
cited of  him  an  introduction  to  his  family  ;  but  as  he  was  not,  I 
could  not  apply  to  him  for  any  advice  or  assistance,  considerate 


252  HELEN    Ml LUKAVE  ;    OR, 

and  generous  as  ho  bad  been  in  arranging  my  affair  with  the 
Murphys.  Although  I  was  thus  compelled,  for  the  moment,  to 
relinquish  every  project  I  had  formed,  I  still  hoped  that  some 
new  occurrence  might,  ere  long,  enable  me  to  increase  my 
resources  by  my  own  exertions. 

At  the  termination  of  my  first  quarter,  I  was  reminded,  by 
note  from  Madame  de  Corbiere,  that  the  ensuing  quarter  became 
immediately  due  in  advance ;  but  as  it  was  not  possible  for  me 
to  make  the  advance  until  I  received  the  remittance  now  due 
from  Ireland,  and  which  I  every  day  expected,  I  explained  to 
Madame  de  Corbiere  my  exact  pecuniary  position.  She  accept- 
ed the  explanation,  with  great  courtesy,  as  a  sufficient  apology 
for  my  not  complying  immediately  with  the  rule  of  her  house. 
A  few  days  afterwards,  I  received  a  letter  from  my  agent  in 
Ireland,  containing,  as  I  joyfully  supposed,  my  expected  remit- 
tance. 

But  on  opening  it,  and  perusing  with  eagerness  its  contents, 
I  soon  learnt  that  the  property  on  which  the  fragment  of  my 
jointure  had  been  secured,  was  destroyed  by  an  incendiary  fire ; 
and  that,  as  an  omission  had  been  made  by  my  agent  in  the 
payment  of  the  insurance  on  it  when  last  due,  all  I  had  in  the 
world  was  swept  away.  I  read  this  letter  over  again  and  again, 
before  I  was  able  to  comprehend  the  extent  of  my  calamity. 
When  I  did  understand  it,  although  an  habitual  feeling  of  ruin, 
and  a  constant  expectation  of  a  final  stroke  had  become  a 
chronic  affection  of  my  mind,  ever  since  the  Jesuit  had 
announced  his  power  over  me,  I  fell  under  the  shock  as  one  who 
is  taken  by  surprise. 

But  the  first  moments  of  a  real  calamity  are  less  terrible  than 
its  effects.  These  come  slowly  and  silently  on  us,  from  day  to 
day,  reducing  us  gradually  to  extinction.  The  mariner  whose 
bark  the  storm  is  rending  from  under  him,  seeing  that  all  expe- 
dients are  exhausted,  silently  lashes  himself  to  a  top-mast,  and 
awaits  his  fate.  I  had  not  yet  arrived  at  this  entire  negation  of 
effort,  for  I  had  children  to  save ;  and  so  long  as  the  '  wasting 
barrel'  and  the  newly-drained  '  cruise  of  oil'  retained  but  a  sin- 
gle meal,  I  dared  not  yield  to  the  despair  that  would  have  ren- 
dered me  impotent. 


JESUIT   BXECUTOBSHIP.  253 

While  I  ruminated  on  the  course  I  should  take,  my  children 
came  running  into  the  room,  and  all  lonely  and  lost  as  they 
appeared  to  me  at  that  moment,  I  pressed  them  to  my  heart, 
and  abandoned  myself  to  the  transports  of  an  unutterable  terror 
and  tenderness.  I  could  not  speak  to  them  of  what  had  hap- 
pened ;  but  it  was  essential  that,  without  loss  of  time,  I  should 
inform  Madame  de  Corbiere  of  it;  for  of  course  I  could  no 
longer  shelter  myself  under  her  roof.  In  an  interview  with  her, 
shortly  after,  I  related  to  her  all  that  had  occurred,  without 
reserve ;  and  having  done  so,  found  no  difficulty  in  prevailing  on 
her  to  allow  me  and  my  children  to  remove  from  her  house 
without  delay.  Knowing,  as  she  did,  that  I  had  two  uncles  in 
affluent  circumstances,  she  no  doubt  expected  that  I  should  be 
assisted  by  them,  and  expressed  a  hope  that  I  should  shortly  be 
able  to  return  to  her. 

I  made  no  allusion  to  them,  however,  although  a  new  hope 
had  sprung  up  in  my  heart,  that  the  extremity  of  my  circum- 
stances might  now,  perchance,  move  their  compassion.  To  my 
uncle  at  Vienna  I  had  never  yet  made  any  application  for  pecu- 
niary assistance,  lest  I  might  thereby  unsettle  the  security  of  my 
mother's  dependence  on  him.  But  I  now  wrote  to  him  without 
delay;  and  stating  the  destitute  circumstances  of  my  family, 
besought  him  to  bestow  on  me  only  enough  to  support  us  for  a 
few  weeks,  so  as  to  give  me  time  to  organize  some  means  where- 
by I  might  earn,  at  least,  enough  to  prevent  our  perishing  of 
hunger.  I  knew  well  that  I  had  an  advocate  near  him,  who,  if 
he  should  apprize  her  of  the  object  of  my  letter,  would  plead 
zealously  for  me.  With  her  I  was  unable  to  communicate,  on 
account  of  the  postage.  I  had,  indeed,  never  been  able  to  keep 
up  any  correspondence  with  her  or  my  sister  since  my  arrival  in 
France,  on  that  account;  and  on  the  same  account,  my  faithful 
Mary  was  also  lost  to  me. 

While  my  letter  was  on  its  way  to  Vienna,  I  made  arrange- 
ments with  a  woman  of  the  name  of  Fanchette,  who  for  the  last 
three  months  had  been  my  laundress,  to  receive  me  and  my 
daughters  into  her  house  as  lodgers. 

Fanchette  occupied  a  small  and  mean  entresol  near  the  Made- 
laine,  which  was  then  in  progress  of  erection.  She  had  but  one 


254  HKLEN  MULQRAVE;  OR, 

room  to  spare,  and  for  that  she  asked  me  only  the  small  sum  of 
two  francs  per  week.  I  was,  of  course,  to  provide  myself  with 
what  I  might  want  of  furniture ;  but  having  no  bed,  and  scarcely 
anything  except  personals,  I  requested  Fanchette  to  purchase 
Borne  clean,  dry  straw,  in  sufficient  abundance  to  enable  me  to 
make  beds  for  us  all.  I  was  in  possession  of  a  few  francs,  and 
was  therefore  able  to  pay  for  this  at  once,  and  to  cover  it  with 
sheeting,  which  I  had  by  me. 

When  I  came  to  take  possession  of  my  room,  I  found,  besides 
my  straw-bed,  which  looked  invitingly  clean,  a  table,  aud  two 
chairs,  and  a  pot  of  artificial  flowers  on  my  mantel-piece — garni- 
ture de  cheminee  being  essential  to  a  Frenchwoman's  ideal  of 
comfort. 

Fanchette  could  neither  read  nor  write;  but  it  is  not  neces- 
sary to  do  these  to  be  intelligent  and  amiable,  for  she  was  both 
to  a  remarkable  degree,  and  showed  besides,  so  much  tact  and 
delicacy  in  arranging  and  contriving  for  our  convenience,  that  I 
almost  fancied  I  had  found  Mary.  How  merciful  is  Providence ! 
how  visible  its  interposition,  even  in  our  meanest  affairs !  I  had 
always  associated  the  idea  of  extreme  poverty  with  vice,  igno- 
rance, or,  at  least,  vulgarity ;  but  in  my  illiterate  hostess  I  found 
a  mind  full  of  intelligence,  a  heart  overflowing  with  goodness, 
and  a  defferential  delicacy  of  manner  in  her  intercourse  with  us, 
who  she  knew  had  fallen  in  life,  that  might  shame  the  hard  de- 
portment of  many  a  Lady  Bountiful  in  the  hovels  of  the  wretched. 

After  paying  Fanchette  for  my  straw,  I  had  only  from  ten  to 
twelve  francs  left,  for  my  lodging  and  food,  for  such  time  as  I 
might  be  able  to  keep  myself  and  my  children  alive.  In  full  con- 
sciousness of  this  fact,  I  frequently  lost  the  power  of  thought, 
and  sat  for  hours  together  in  speechless  imbecility.  Without 
just  such  a  kind  and  benificent  creature  as  Fanchette,  I  believe 
I  should  have  yielded  at  once  to  my  despair,  and  expired. 
Shocked  as  she  was  at  our  actual  condition,  of  which  she  soon 
became  cognizant,  she  retained  her  cheerful  air  and  tone ;  and, 
gpite  of  her  own  poverty,  and  the  fear  she  entertained  of  appear- 
ing to  know  too  much,  she  repeatedly  brought  into  our  room 
some  eatables  for  the  children,  which  she  affected  to  be  a  super- 
fluity that  she  knew  not  what  to  do  with. 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  255 

I  had  been  under*the  necessity  of  confining  our  diet  to  bread 
and  water  from  the  first  day  of  our  residence  with  Fanchette, 
who  burst  into  tears  when  she  first  made  a  discovery  of  this  fact, 
and  ran  hastily  out  of  the  room,  in  an  undisguised  paroxysm  of 
feeling. 

The  desolation  of  my  heart,  at  this  time,  made  sad  ravages  on 
me,  and  a  few  days  reduced  me  almost  to  a  spectre ;  but  the 
hope  I  had  founded  on  my  letter  to  Vienna  kept  me  from  sink- 
ing. Meanwhile,  I  lost  all  power  of  conversing ;  there  seemed 
to  be  a  great  gulf  betwixt  me  and  every  one  I  knew,  or  met, 
which  I  had  neither  the  power  nor  the  desire  to  pass.  The  mag- 
nitude of  my  affliction  thus  plunged  me  into  a  frightful  solitude, 
in  which  I  felt  crushed  by  the  weight  of  my  own  impotency. 
The  expected  letter  from  Vienna  at  length  arrived,  with  the 
postage  paid ;  a  circumstance  that  at  the  first  moment  flushed 
me  with  joy,  as  I  knew  that  my  children's  bread  must  otherwise 
have  been  curtailed  to  defray  it.  I  thought,  besides,  that  it  was 
a  good  augury.  The  contents  of  the  letter  were,  nevertheless, 
such  as  the  poor  may  generally  expect,  in  circumstances  like 
mine,  from  their  rich  relatives.  My  uncle  actually  pleaded 
poverty ;  and  explained  himself  by  saying  that  his  whole  income 
being  absorbed  by  his  habitual  expenses,  it  was  not  in  his  power 
to  make  me  a  remittance,  but  advised  me  to  apply  to  my  uncle 
De  Carryfort,  who,  being  on  the  spot,  was  better  able  to  judge 
of  my  wants,  and  to  supply  them.  He  was  even  zealous  enough 
(in  his  desire  to  serve  us  by  his  pen)  to  write  a  note  to  the  count, 
which  he  requested  I  would  deliver  in  person.  I  saw  my  dear 
mother's  hand  in  the  advised  mode  of  procedure,  but  I  doubted 
the  efficacy  of  the  experiment. 

Yet  I  went  once  more  to  the  residence  of  Monsieur  de  Carry- 
fort,  and  finding  him  at  home,  sent  in  the  baron's  note,  inclosed 
in  one  of  my  own,  in  which  I  told  him  that  my  children  and  I 
were  dying  of  want.  But  I  was  not  permitted  to  see  him ;  a 
verbal  answer  by  the  servant  informed  me  that  '  Monsieur  le 
comte  begged  I  would  not  trouble  myself  to  call  again,  as  he 
was  going  immediately  out  of  town.' 

The  sacred  fable,  that  represents  the  dog  of  the  rich  man  as 
having  more  compassion  than  his  master  for  the  beggar  that  lay 


256  HELEN    MULQRAVE  ;    OR, 

in  want  and  disease  at  the  gate  of  his  mansion,  is  as  applicable 
as  ever  to  the  class  whom  it  was  intended  to  warn.  Could  my 
uncle,  but  for  one  hour,  have  suffered  the  wretchedness  which  I 
was  then  suffering,  and  the  almost  greater  misery  of  asking 
relief  from  him,  how  deeply  would  he  have  felt  that  '  it  is  more 
blessed  to  give  than  to  receive!' 

My  present  visitation  had  come  upon  mo  so  suddenly,  and  with 
so  exterminating  a  power,  that,  without  assistance  from  friends, 
nothing  short  of  a  miracle  could  save  us  from  being  swept  away 
by  it  from  the  face  of  the  earth.  There  had  been  neither  time 
nor  scope  for  effort :  what  I  could  do,  I  had  done,  but  it  had 
been  utterly  unavailing ;  and  now,  with  my  children  dying  by 
inches  before  my  eyes,  I  cried  out,  in  agony  of  spirit,  '  Where 
are  the  ravens  that  fed  Elijah  ?  and  where,  above  all,  is  the  God 
of  Elijah?'  But  in  this  tempest  of  feeling,  the  'small  still 
voice '  was  not  heard  to  answer ;  and  nothing  remained,  but  that 
we  must  die.  After  all,  said  I — as  my  heart,  emptied  of  hope, 
became  too  sick  for  further  resistance — to  die  of  want  is  no  un- 
usual occurrence.  Why  does  this  doom  affect  me  so  deeply  ? 
What  am  I,  or  what  is  my  father's  house,  that  the  visitations  of 
the  Almighty  should  pass  us  by,  more  than  others  ?  How  many 
thousands  of  God's  creatures  die  daily  of  want,  or  of  disease 
arising  from  it,  in  spite  of  the  bountiful  provisions  of  both  nature 
and  society  to  avert  it  ?  Yet  little  know  we  of  the  evil  we  have 
never  felt.  How  often  have  I  glanced  at  the  stinted  obituary  of 
the  wretch  who  had  died  of  famine,  on  the  pavement  of  the 
street,  or  on  the  floor  of  the  hovel,  and,  washing  away  the  im- 
pression of  it  in  a  few  tears,  have  turned  from  the  record,  and 
forgotten  it ! 

But  now  '  mine  eye  hath  seen  all  this,  mine  ear  hath  heard 
and  understood  it ;'  therefore  '  my  face  is  foul  with  weeping,  and 
on  my  eyelids  is  the  shadow  of  death !' 

Paris,  filled  with  the  products  of  wealth,  exhibits  everywhere, 
Avith  prodigal  hand,  a  profusion  of  inviting  viands ;  covering  her 
stalls  and  filling  her  shop  windows  with  the  varied  aliments, 
garnished  to  invite  the  appetite  of  the  epicure,  while  they  tempt 
to  evil  the  poor  and  hungry  wretch  who  gazes  on  them.  Such 
is  the  constitution  of  society,  that  in  a  city  thus  glutted  with 


JESUIT   EXECUTOR8HIP.  257 

food,  the  famishing  wretch  who  cannot  buy  becomes  another 
Tantalus,  doomed  to  endless  hunger  and  thirst,  while  surrounded 
by  the  elements  of  life. 

I  had  been  about  five  months  in  Paris,  when  I  returned  from 
Monsieur  de  Oarryfort's  h6tel,  under  the  full  conviction  that  our 
death-warrant  was  now  signed,  and  that  there  remained  scarcely 
anything  more  for  me  to  do  on  earth.  But  the  smallest  transac- 
tion becomes  great  to  the  imagination  when  it  is  consciously 
performed  for  the  last  time.  The  mere  payment  of  my  week's 
rent  to  Fanchette,  the  only  debt  I  owed  in  the  world,  was  ac- 
companied with  tears.  It  was  with  difficulty  I  prevailed  on  her 
to  take  it ;  for  although  she  was  not  aware  that  I  was  paying 
her  my  last  franc,  she  persisted  in  it  that  she  did  not  want  it. 
The  balance  that  remained  to  me  was  only  sufficient  to  buy  bread 
for  the  morrow;  so  that  I  very  naturally  considered  our  hours 
to  be  numbered. 

Fanchette  had  informed  me  that  she  was  unavoidably  going 
into  the  country  until  Monday  ;  and  when,  at  about  five  in  the 
afternoon  of  Saturday,  she  closed  the  door,  to  leave  us  alone  for 
two  days,  I  had  no  expectation  of  living  to  see  her  return,  for  I 
already  felt  as  if  I  were  dying.  But  at  the  age  of  twenty-seven 
when  the  constitution  is  naturally  good,  the  physical  nature 
makes  great  resistance  to  death.  Had  it  been  otherwise,  I 
should  not  have  survived  this  crisis. 

My  children  and  I  made  our  accustomed  preparations  for  the 
Sabbath  morning  of  the  morrow,  and  then  eating  our  morsel, 
lay  down  for  the  night.  The  children  were  soon  asleep,  but  the 
loneliness  of  Fanchette's  entresol,  now  that  it  was  bereft  of  her 
light,  quick,  step,  and  her  occasional  low  chant,  as  she  moved 
about  at  late  hours  in  her  own  room,  in  performance  of  her 
occupation,  became  so  oppressive  to  my  fancy  as  to  keep  me 
awake  ;  or,  if  I  closed  my  eyes  for  a  few  minutes  in  forgetful- 
ness,  I  fell  into  dreams  from  which  the  terror  they  inspired  soon 
roused  me.  At  one  time,  I  saw  skeleton  infants  gnawing  their 
own  limbs ;  at  another,  my  children  were  being  tumbled  into  a 
grave,  without  shroud  or  coffin. 

After  repeated  suifering  of  this  kind,  I  rose,  about  three  in  the 
morning,  and  looking  out  of  the  small  window  of  my  room, 


258  HELEN    MULGRAVE  ;    OR, 

observed,  for  the  first  time  since  I  had  been  there,  a  large  private 
hotel  within  view  of  it. 

As  the  bright  moonbeams  fell  on  the  court  of  the  mansion,  I 
saw  there  a  moving  female  figure — apparently  that  of  an  upper 
servant — whose  gestures  exhibited  feelings  of  an  agonizing 
character. 

In  Paris,  the  dwellings  of  the  poor  are  often  in  close  con- 
tiguity with  those  of  the  rich.  This  was  the  case  with  Fan- 
chette's  entresol.  Even  under  the  same  roof  with  me  and  mine, 
who  were  perishing  of  want,  on  different  floors  there  resided 
persons  of  independence  and  of  wealth,  who  enjoyed  every  day 
the  pre-eminent  luxuries  of  Paris.  But  I  am  wandering;  I 
meant  only  to  speak  of  the  suffering  individual  whom  I  saw 
traversing  the  cour  within  sight  of  my  window. 

A  rumour  reached  rne  in  the  morning,  that  a  suicide  had  been 
committed  in  that  cour  during  the  night ;  and  I  felt,  on  hearing 
it,  that  I  must  have  seen  the  wretched  perpetrator  of  that 
hideous  crime,  perhaps  at  the  very  moment  when  she  was  hover- 
ing on  eternity.  It  was  not  until  many  months  afterwards,  that 
I  knew  myself  to  be  at  all  connected  with  this  occurrence.  I 
then  learnt  that  the  wretched  suicide,  whose  agonies  I  had  wit- 
nessed previous  to  the  deed,  was  Miss  Murphy.  The  magistrates 
of  the  locality  in  Ireland  where  the  destruction  of  my  property 
had  taken  place,  when  it  was  known  that  an  act  of  incen- 
diarism had  occurred  in  their  own  immediate  neighbourhood, 
left  no  stone  unturned  to  discover  the  perpetrators  of  it.  Their 
researches  were  successful,  and  although  the  act  proved  to  be 
but  the  work  of  one  hand,  it  was  discovered  to  have  been  pro- 
jected by  Mrs.  Murphy  and  her  daughter,  and  performed  under 
their  direction. 

Mrs.  Murphy's  death,  indeed,  had  taken  place  previous  to  its 
actual  accomplishment ;  but  letters  were  found  in  her  hand, 
darkly  interlined  by  another,  and  a  male  hand,  enforcing  it  on 
the  tool  selected  for  their  purpose,  and  offering  him  Miss 
Murphy's  hand,  and  a  home  in  her  mother's  establishment  in 
Paris,  as  soon  as  the  destruction  should  be  accomplished,  thus 
aiming  at  a  fulfilment  of  the  vindictive  and  mysterious  threats 
uttered  by  Mrs.  Murphy,  on  the  day  I  left  her  house. 


JESUIT   BXECUTOR8HTP.  259 

Another  letter  was  also  found,  of  a  subsequent  date,  in  Miss 
Murphy's  hand,  urging  the  criminal  to  promptitude,  and  confirm- 
ing the  conditions  on  which  he  had  been  engaged  to  perform 
the  deed. 

These  particulars  had  been  disclosed  in  the  judicial  examina- 
tions made  in  a  court  of  justice.  The  wretched  Miss  Murphy, 
just  at  the  time  they  were  taking  place,  had  entered  on  the 
service  of  the  family  occupying  the  h6tel  within  sight  of  my 
window.  Her  connexion  with  this  affair  became  known  to  her 
employers  through  an  application  made  to  them  by  the  officers 
of  justice  employed  in  it  in  Ireland  :  and  she,  being  apprized  of 
the  charges  against  her,  committed  the  suicide  I  have  related. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

THERE  are  calamities  in  life  of  which  no  adequate  account  can 
be  given  by  the  sufferer,  not  only  because  language  is  incapable 
of  depicting  them,  but  because  the  pain  which  they  inflict 
renders  the  mind  too  feeble  to  take  note  either  of  itself  or  of 
them. 

The  acute  agony  that  accompanies  the  waking  from  sleep  of  a 
wretched  being,  whose  intense  suffering  has  been  awhile  suspen- 
ded by  it,  surpasses  all  words  of  torture,  and  can  bo  understood 
only  by  those  who  have  felt  it. 

When  I  awoke  on  Sunday  morning,  it  was  from  a  sound  and 
deathlike  sleep — the  sleep  of  exhaustion,  in  which  every  reality 
around  me,  and  every  thought  within  me,  had  ceased  to  exist. 
The  pangs  inflicted  by  returning  consciousness,  with  all  its  fear- 
ful perceptions,  were  greater  than  I  could  bear  ;  and  I  started 
up,  to  meet  and  grapple  with  the  new  horrors  that  rushed  on 
my  view.  Not  that  our  situation  was  materially  different  from 
what  it  had  been  for  some  days  past,  except  that  we  were  more 
exhausted,  and  that  this  day,  unless  we  could  survive  the  entire 
want  of  food,  must  be  the  beginning  of  the  end.  Fanchette 
would,  indeed,  return  in  the  morning,  and  I  should  again  hear 


260  HELEN  MULGRAVE;  OR, 

her  pleasant  voice  ;  and  she  would,  perhaps,  again  force  on  my 
children  her  gift  of  what,  to  make  it  accepted,  she  was  wont  to 
call  her  superfluous  food.  But  could  I  allow  my  children  to  be 
fed  by  her  who  could  scarcely  support  herself?  By  to-morrow 
however,  the  force  of  gnawing  hunger  might  perchance  bear 
away  all  sense  of  what  was  due  to  another,  and  leave  me  but 
with  a  single  thought — that  of  saving  my  children's  lives. 

Oh,  ye  who  sit  in  judgment  on  the  thefts  of  the  starving 
wretch,  whose  bewildered  sense  no  longer  discerns  the  sacred 
barrier  that  stands  betwixt  him  and  another's  bread,  have  mercy 
on  him  when  he  '  steals  but  to  satisfy  his  hunger !'  Yet,  better 
for  me  and  mine  to  die,  than  to  put  forth  the  hand  to  evil.  Oh, 
Life !  Death !  what  are  ye  ?  Even  the  possession  of  life  does 
not  teach  us  what  it  is.  What  then  can  we  know  of  death  ? 
None  that  have  passed  through  its  dark  valley  return  to  tell  us 
what  it  is.  Nevertheless,  with  my  senses  wide  awake,  and  with 
quickened  perceptions  of  the  incorporeal  world  around  me,  I 
saw  Death  marching  on  us  with  rapid  strides  ;  and  if  in  watching 
his  advance,  I  could  have  believed  all  which  had  been  given  me 
to  do,  was  done,  how  joyfully  should  I  have  hailed  his  approach  ! 
But  he  came  not  alone  to  me  ;  my  children,  too,  must  die ;  and 
though  the  youngest,  being  awhile  provided  for,  would  perchance 
survive  us,  yet  he  would  be  left  alone  in  the  world,  undefended, 
unprepared  for  the  accidents  of  life,  and,  as  a  natural  conse- 
quence of  such  an  isolation,  would  perhaps  die  an  early  death 
by  the  hand  of  violence  and  cruelty,  or  from  a  course  of  sin. 
How  could  I  persuade  myself  that  the  natural  deterioration 
arising  from  the  want  of  parental  care  could  be  averted  from 
him  ?  My  own  life  was  as  nothing  in  the  balance  with  that  of 
my  children,  whose  never-dying  spirits  had  been  entrusted  to 
me  by  the  only  Bestower  of  life.  The  deep  truths  of  our  com- 
plicated being  slumber  in  the  soul  during  our  quiet  hours ;  but 
awake  like  giants,  to  crush  us  with  their  strength,  in  moments 
of  weakness  and  terror,  when  nothing  is  left  to  us  but  our  des- 
pair. Overwhelmed  with  appalling  doubts  and  cares,  and  with 
that  sorrow  of  earth  which  worketh  death,  I  scarcely  dared 
inquire  whether  my  spirit,  so  soon,  perhaps,  to  appear  before 
God,  were  meet  for  his  presence.  I  attempted  to  peruse  the 


JESUIT    EXECUTOR8HIP.  261 

sacred  pages,  but  they  were  a  sealed  book  to  me.  Every 
moment  I  was  compelled  to  retrace  what  I  had  read,  and  force 
myself  back  upon  passages  once  luminous  to  me,  but  which  now 
conveyed  nothing  to  my  distracted  mind.  I  knelt,  and  endea- 
voured to  pray  ;  but  thought  vacillated,  my  brain  reeled,  and  I 
could  no  longer  realize  the  divine  idea  of  a  Father  in  heaven. 
It  seemed  as  though  the  portals  of  that  world  were  closed  against 
me,  and  that  the  Omnipotent  had  '  covered  himself  with  a  cloud, 
that  my  prayer  should  not  pass  through.' 

My  children,  shrunken  and  withered,  lay  half-dead  before 
me ;  and  the  state  of  listless  immobility  in  which  they  were, 
rendered  it  impossible  to  rouse,  or  to  interest  them  in  anything. 
They  were  every  moment  overpowered  by  sleep,  or  awaking 
out  of  it  with  a  frightened  start.  After  some  time,  a  similar 
stupor  crept  over  myself;  and  life  stood  still,  both  with  them 
and  me,  .until  the  afternoon,  when  we  gathered  round  the  frag- 
ment of  bread  that  remained ;  and,  as  '  the  widow  of  Zarephath 
and  her  son,  had  done  before  us,  we  prepared  to  eat  it  together, 
and  die.  I  divided  it  amongst  us  with  a  solemnity  of  feeling 
that  overwhelmed  me,  and  clasping  my  children  in  my  arms, 
shed  over  them  a  torrent  of  tears. 

We  had  now  arrived  at  a  point  in  time  which  touched  eter- 
nity !  Yet  we  might  still  live  many  hours,  perhaps  days.  I 
had  so  long  been  counting  the  pulsations  of  my  children,  watch- 
ing their  deathlike  appearance,  and  listening  to  their  shortening 
respiration,  that,  absorbed  in  those  fearful  symptoms,  no  thought 
of  possible  relief  occurred  to  me.  But  suddenly  I  became  im- 
pressed with  a  sense  of  criminality,  in  thus  sitting  still,  without 
making  an  effort,  or  raising  a  cry  for  help.  An  impulse  seized 
me  to  seek  God  in  his  sanctuary ;  for  although  my  prayers 
seemed  no  longer  to  reach  the  skies,  yet  perhaps,  in  concert 
with  other  worshippers  in  the  temple  of  God,  my  voice  might 
once  more  ascend  to  heaven  ;  and  I  resolved  to  go,  as  one  of  old 
went  to  the  pool  of  Bethesda,  to  wait  for  '  the  coming  of  the 
angel  there.' 

The  pallid  cheeks  of  my  children,  flaccid  and  faded  as  .the 
leaves  of  a  rose  verging  on  decay,  inspired  no  hope  of  their 
being  able  to  walk  to  the  English  church,  in  the  '  Avenue  do 


26'2  HELEN    MULGHAVE  ;    OR, 

Neuilly ;'  yet,  like  myself,  they  desired  to  do  so  when  it  was 
proposed  to  them.  We  left  our  entresol  about  four,  and  although 
the  distance  was  not  greater  than  that  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour's 
walk  to  the  Champs  Elysees,  through  which  lay  our  direct  path, 
•we  did  not  get  there  until  five.  We  had  then  still  a  distance  of 
another  hour  to  accomplish  before  we  could  reach  the  church,  ns 
neither  of  us  was  able  to  move  more  than  a  step  or  two  at  a  time. 

The  avenues  on  which  we  were  entering  were  already 
crowded  with  every  varied  class  of  society.  Amongst  them 
many  beggars,  on  whose  countenances  no  want  was  visible,  yet 
they  solicited  alms  with  success.  As  I  observed  that  success, 
the  question  flashed  across  my  brain  like  an  electric  shock, — why 
may  not  /  beg  ?  And  yet,  as  I  hastily  and  unconsciously  raised 
my  hand  to  a  passer  by,  my  arm  fell  as  if  palsied  by  the  attempt. 
The  crowds  around  us  little  thought  of  the  misery  that  mingled 
that  night  with  their  mirth  I 

There  was  everything  on  that  fine  February  evening  to  charm 
the  senses — even  mine — if  a  single  earthly  hope  had  been  latent 
in  my  soul.  The  weather  was  mild  and  the  air  soft ;  the  sun 
was  sinking  in  beauty  to  the  edge  of  the  horizon,  while  the  moon 
was  rising  in  the  opposite  heaven ;  and  as  the  greater  light 
departed,  the  lesser  shone  resplendently  through  the  leafless 
branches  of  the  trees,  prolonging  day,  and  courting  the  willing 
crowds  to  linger  in  their  walk.  Flower-girls  were  there  with 
snowdrops  and  crocusses — the  first  I  had  seen  in  this  foreign 
land — and  green-house  flowers  were  also  there  in  rich  abun- 
dance, and  music  and  song,  to  lend  their  aid  to  the  enchantment 
of  the  hour  and  the  scene. 

Numerous  carriages,  ranged  at  the  edge  of  the  outer  avenue, 
awaited  the  orders  of  those  who  had  left  them,  to  mingle  with 
the  joyous  multitudes  in  the  Grande  Promenade. 

In  the  more  retired  walks,  the  customary  amusements  of  a 
Parisian  Sunday  were  everywhere  going  on,  with  an  eagerness 
and  an  excitement  that  seemed  to  mock  the  misery  of  a  group 
like  ours.  But  the  actors  in  those  scenes  saw  us  not.  Panto- 
mime and  play — whirling-machines  and  monkeys — puppets  and 
conjurors — were  too  absorbing  to  leave  a  thought  for  anything 
but  themselves.  These  things,  which  ministered  pleasure  to 


JESUIT   EXKCUTORSHIP.  263 

such  crowds  of  human  beings,  impeded  our  feeble  progress  so 
materially,  that  we  scarcely  advanced  at  all. 

The  children  were  so  much  exhausted  that  they  hung  on  each 
other  and  on  me  for  support,  before  we  had  gone  half  the  length 
of  the  Avenue.  As  I  was  unable  to  sustain  or  assist  them  for 
want  of  strength  to  support  myself,  I  found  it  would  be  impossi- 
ble for  us  to  reach  the  church ;  and  I  bitterly  regretted  that 
thoughtlessness  and  over-estimation  of  our  strength,  which  had 
brought  us  so  far  from  our  entresol. 

We  had  withdrawn  to  one  of  the  most  retired  avenues  to 
escape  the  jostling  crowd,  and  my  limbs  entirely  failing  me,  I 
sank  on  the  grass,  where  I  remained  for  several  minutes,  with 
my  children  clinging  to  me  and  weeping  beside  me,  without 
attracting  the  slightest  attention  from  any  one  of  the  occupied 
multitudes  in  our  vicinity. 

All  at  once,  I  heard  a  sound  which  seemed  familiar  to  me. 
It  was  the  playful  bark  of  a  dog,  repeated  two  or  three  times. 
His  rich,  full  tones  struck  me  as  resembling  those  of  Rover;  and 
shaking  off  the  lethargy  that  had  fallen  on  me,  I  looked  around, 
gazing  into  the  deep  shadows  of  the  wood,  almost  expecting  to 
discover  him  there,  while  I  breathlessly  listened  for  a  repetition 
of  his  bark.  It  was  at  length  repeated,  but  the  sound  was  evi- 
dently retreating  into  distance.  The  weakness  of  a  child  was 
on  me,  and  I  wept  at  my  disappointment.  But  looking  at  my 
children,  who  now  lay  quietly  beside  me  on  the  grass,  I  saw  in 
them  a  new  source  of  alarm.  Their  faces  were  changed,  and 
presented  an  appearance  that  startled  me.  I  felt  there  was  not 
a  moment  to  be  lost,  and  that  if  we  did  not  return  at  once  to 
our  domicile,  we  might  never  reach  it  more,  but  might  be 
carried  in  a  state  of  insensibility  to  some  public  place,  to  die 
amidst  a  crowd. 

Arousing  and  caressing  my  poor  children,  I  explained  to  them 
that  we  must  return  home  immediately.  They  understood  me 
sufficiently  to  rise  from  the  ground,  with  my  assistance,  and 
each  taking  a  hand  of  mine,  clung  to  it,  and  crept  feebly  by  my 
side,  until  we  came  at  length  in  view  of  the  'Madelaine,'  when 
a  faint  exclamation  of  joy  broke  from  them  both,  at  being  so 
near  home. 


2G4  HELEN  MULGRAVE;  OR, 

Home !  what  a  home !  but  still  '  sweet  home.'  We  reached 
the  porter's  lodge,  and  were  soon  within  the  gate  of  entrance. 
As  we  crossed  the  court-yard,  a  bright  moonbeam  fell  on  our 
path.  I  gazed  on  its  silvery  light,  and  thought  it  was  the  last 
time  I  should  look  upon  it.  The  cares  of  earth  seemed  leaving 
my  heart,  and  I  felt  with  joy  that  the  journey  of  life  was  nearly 
ended. 

The  porter  offered  me  a  lighted  candle,  which  I  accepted, 
and  after  closing  and  locking  the  door  of  our  room  as  we  entered 
it,  my  children  sank  down  at  once  upon  their  bed  on  the  floor, 
and  became  in  a  moment  so  utterly  motionless,  that  I  doubted 
whether  all  were  not  over  with  them.  I  did  not  attempt,  how- 
ever, to  pry  into  the  fearful  secret  of  their  deathlike  stillness. 
The  time  was  past  for  affording  them  relief.  I  had  nothing 
with  which  to  revive  them,  and  not  physical  strength  enough 
to  render  them  corporeal  aid  of  any  sort. 

A  far  greater  duty  pressed  itself  on  me.  Their  spirits  wero 
returning  to  God  who  gave  them.  I  tried  to  kneel,  while  I  com- 
mended them  to  his  mercy ;  but,  unable  to  sustain  myself,  sank 
on  the  floor  by  their  side.  A  few  moments  of  rest  had  a 
wonderful  effect  on  my  mind.  My  soul  seemed  to  wake  out  of 
its  late  stupor,  and  I  realized  the  promise,  '  at  even-tide  it  shall 
be  light.'  Yes,  all  things  assumed  a  new  aspect.  The  spiritual 
nature  expanding  itself,  and  throwing  off  the  dull  mortality  of 
an  earthly  life,  mounted  as  '  on  eagles'  wings'  towards  its  divine 
source,  while  the  quickening  words  of  the  Saviour,  '  he  that 
believeth  in  me,  though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live,'  awa- 
kened every  glorious  hope,  every  vision  of  faith  my  soul  had 
ever  known,  and  I  blessed  with  fervent  adoration,  in  these  (as  I 
then  thought)  my  last  moments,  that  knowledge  I  had  derived 
from  Scripture,  of '  God  in  Christ,  reconciling  the  world  to  him- 
self, not  imputing  their  trespasses  unto  them.'  A  sense  of  sin 
forgiven  enabled  me  to  approach,  confidingly,  Him  '  who  is  the 
same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  for  ever,'  and  to  lay  my  children 
and  myself  prostrate  before  his  throne  in  hopeJ  If  for  a  moment 
I  afterwards  thought  of  the  Jesuit  priest  as  the  destroyer  of  my- 
self and  family,  it  was  but  to  feel  that  I  forgave  him.  How 
lung  I  lay  after  this,  I  know  not.  As  my  eyes  closed,  I  became 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSHIP.  265 

unconscious.  A  movement  outside  the  door  of  my  room  dis- 
turbed me,  and  the  short,  half-bark  of  a  dog,  roused  me  to 
recollection. 

It  was  the  same  bark  I  had  heard  in  the  Champs  Elysees.  la 
a  moment,  the  bell  of  the  apartment  pealed  startlingly  through 
the  silent  rooms,  and  in  the  next  instant,  a  gentle  tap  at  my 
door  was  heard.  Though  scarcely  a  step  from  the  bed  to  the  door, 
I  was  so  long  in  rising  from  the  floor,  that  a  second  tap  was 
given  before  I  could  reach  it.  As  I  opened  it,  a  large  dog  rushed 
in,  and  nearly  threw  me  down  with  the  fierce  joy  of  his  greeting. 
It  was  Eover !  That  I  did  not  fall  to  the  floor,  was  owing  to  an 
arm  that  was  thrown  round  me  to  prevent  it.  I  turned  to  look 
at  my  supporter,  and  recognised,  in  deep  mourning,  my  own 
Mary  !  In  the  surprise  and  joy  of  the  moment,  I  became  utterly 
speechless. 

******* 

Mary  discerned  the  helplessness  of  our  whole  party,  although 
she  was  far  from  imagining  the  cause.  The  candle  was  still 
burning,  and  I  was  not  so  unconscious  but  that  I  observed  her 
wondering  and  distracted  look,  as  she  threw  around  a  glance  of 
inquiry  ;  and  I  uttered,  as  articulately  as  I  was  able,  '  Mary,  we 
are  dying  for  want  of  the  necessaries  of  life  ;  take  us  where  we 
can  obtain  them.'  She  looked  aghast ;  but  with  her  accustomed 
tact,  soon  procured  assistance,  and  placed  us  in  a  fiacre.  The 
children,  unable  to  sustain  themselves,  sank  on  the  floor  of  the 
carriage,  while  Mary  supported  me  in  her  arms.  I  had  become 
insensible  before  we  reached  the  Hotel  Montmorency,  whither 
she  took  us,  and  where  she  had  occupied  an  apartment  since  her 
arrival  in  Paris. 

When  I  returned  to  life,  I  was  in  a  comfortable  bed,  with  Mary 
attending  on  me,  and  another  person  sitting  by  my  bedside. 
Everything  around,  except  herself,  was  strange  to  me ;  and  I  had 
lost  all  recollection  of  how  I  came  there. 

As  I  endeavoured  to  raise  myself,  that  I  might  take  a  survey 
of  the  place,  I  found  I  could  not  move.  In  awnoment  Mary 
sprang  to  me,  and  taking  my  hand,  kissed  it  passionately 
exclaiming,  '  Oh,  my  dear  mistress,  thank  God,  you  are  yourself 
again!' 

12 


266  HELEN    MULGRAVE  J    OR, 

A  doctor,  who  was  waiting  in  an  adjoining  room,  immediately 
entered  and  felt  my  pulse,  but  he  said  nothing.  Although  1 
was  quite  sensible  of  everything  that  was  passing,  I  was  unable 
to  speak ;  but  in  a  short  time,  after  several  attempts,  I  articulated 
— 'my  children.'  The  doctor  replied,  'They  are  asleep  in  bed, 
madam,  they  shall  be  taken  care  of;  do  not  allow  any  thought 
of  them  to  disturb  you.'  Some  kind  of  refreshment  having  been 
administered,  under  the  doctor's  direction,  I  shortly  after  became 
restless  and  bewildered  to  a  fearful  degree.  I  no  longer  saw 
Mary,  or  any  one  but  the  doctor,  and  I  thought  that  what  I  had 
lately  seen  and  heard  must  have  been  a  dream.  Even  the 
present  appeared  like  a  scene  in  a  dream,  and  I  shrank  from  the 
piercing  eyes  of  the  doctor,  who  looked  fixedly  at  me,  and 
attempted  to  escape  from  him,  but  could  not  move  or  utter  a 
sound.  I  then  closed  my  eyes,  and  horrid  visions  of  all  kinds 
appeared  before  me,  mingled  in  a  confused  mass,  and  in  endea- 
vouring to  run  away,  I  fell  into  a  deep  pit.  After  passing 
through  the  several  stages  of  a  nervous  fever,  I  was  once  more 
by  degrees  in  possession  of  my  faculties. 

My  first  object  of  recognition  was  Mary,  and  as  I  uttered  her 
name  she  burst  into  tears,  but  immediately  checked  herself,  and 
assumed  an  air  of  tranquillity.  I  was  at  this  time  so  weak  as  to 
be  borne  in  the  arms  of  my  nurses,  whenever  there  was  a  neces- 
sity for  moving  me.  I  found  Fanchette  often  associated  with 
Mary  in  her  attendance  on  me,  and  thought  myself  supremely 
happy  with  two  such  attendants.  But  where  was  I  ?  at  whose 
cost  ?  were  questions  I  was  impatient  to  ask ;  yet,  could  not 
muster  strength  to  utter.  At  length  the  power  of  speech 
.returned,  and  my  first  inquiry  was  of  ray  children.  A  door  was 
opened,  through  which  I  saw  the  two  girls  standing  at  a  table, 
Dora  and  Caroline,  each  with  a  doll. 

As  I  uttered  an  exclamation  of  joy,  the  door  was  again  softly 
closed,  and  the  vision  departed.  I  wept  myself  to  sleep  for  joy 
and  thankfulness,  and  when  I  again  awoke,  darkness  and  silence 
reigned  around,  except  that,  in  a  distant  corner  of  the  room,  a 
light  shaded  by  a  screen  sent  forth  its  soft  pale  rays,  which 
rather  composed  than  disturbed  me.  I  looked  round,  and  saw 
Fanchette  in  an  arm  chair,  wide  awake,  and  looking  anxiously 


JESUIT    EXECUTOR8HIP.  267 

towards  me.  She  approached,  and  offered  ine  delicious  fruit, 
which  I  ate  with  eagerness,  then  again  fell  asleep ;  and  after  this 
I  began  to  recover.  I  was  soon  allowed  to  listen  to  a  recital  of 
the  wonderful -coincidences  that  had  occurred  so  opportunely,  to 
save  my  children  and  myself  from  a  death  of  famine.  I  was 
told  that  a  month  had  elapsed,  and  my  children  were  so  far 
recovered  as  to  have  almost  attained  their  usual  healthful 
appearance.  I  was  allowed  to  see  one  at  a  time,  every  day,  for 
a  few  minutes  at  intervals,  until  all  restraint  was  taken  off. 

As  soon  as  I  found  myself  able  to  talk,  I  began  to  question 
Mary, — '  Why  are  you  in  mourning  ?  and  how  came  you  to 
arrive  at  our  entresol  at  a  moment  so  critical  to  us  ?' 

'  I  fear,  my  dear  mistress,  that  you  are  not  able  to  know  all 
yet.' 

'  Fear  not,  Mary ;  tell  me  what  angel  brought  you  to  France, 
and  why  you  came  at  a  point  of  time  when  another  hour  might 
have  been  fatal  to  us  all.  Tell  me  every  particular ;  it  will  do 
me  good.' 

'  I  must  begin  then,  my  dear  mistress,  with  the  death  of  your 
good  aunt,  Lady  Mulgrave,  for  whom  I  am  wearing  mourning. 
She  lived  only  two  months  after  I,  through  your  goodness,  went 
into  her  service.  She  was  a  great  sufferer,  and  became  very 
helpless  soon  after  I  went  to  her ;  and  she  took  such  a  fancy  to 
my  way  of  doing  for  her,  that  she  would  never  willingly  have 
any  one  else  about  her  person.  As  her  own  maid  and  the  other 
servants  were  almost  worn  out  with  night  and  day  watching, 
when  I  first  arrived  to  help  them,  they  were  glad  to  see  me,  and 
I  lived  good  friends  with  them,  until  they  found  that  their  lady 
preferred  my  services  to  theirs.  But  that  is  nothing  to  the  pur- 
pose. I  used  to  be  left  alone  with  my  lady,  sometimes  for  hours 
together ;  and  it  was  at  such  times  that  she  was  accustomed  to 
ask  me  questions  about  the  dear  mistress  I  had  left.  She  seemed 
so  much  interested  in  what  I  told  her,  that  she  sometimes  wept, 
till  I  got  frightened,  lest  I  might  be  doing  wrong  in  telling  her 
what  so  much  moved  her  feelings.  But  she  continued  to  ques- 
tion me,  until  I  had  told  her  everything  about  your  dear  family, 
and  Father  Ossory  too.  You  know,  ma'am,  that  Lady  Mulgrave 
was  a  Protestant,  and  she  clasped  her  hands  together  in  joy,  as 


268  HELEN    MULORAVE  ;    OR, 

she  heard  of  Father  Ossory's  conversion,  and  constancy  till  death. 
And  when  I  told  her  how  much  you  suffered,  at  not  being  able 
to  put  a  tombstone  over  him  or  your  own  dear  infants,  she  got 
Sir  Felix  to  write  off  by  the  first  post,  to  order  a  suitable  tomb 
for  the  good  father,  and  one  also  for  the  infants.' 

When  Mary  had  got  thus  far,  she  was  alarmed  at  my  tears, 
and  could  not  be  prevailed  on  to  resume  her  narrative  until  the 
following  day,  nor  even  then  without  the  doctor's  sanction. 

'  Lady  Mulgrave,'  she  then  continued,  '  was  not  only  kind  in 
life,  but  in  death ;  and  even  to  the  last  moment  continued  to 
ppeak  of  you,  ma'am,  so  affectionately  that  she  quite  won  my 
heart.  She  used  to  say,  she  wondered  how  your  relations  could 
let  you  go  wandering  about  the  world,  as  she  called  it,  by  your- 
self, so  young  as  you  are,  too ;  and  she  said  she  felt  great  regret 
that  she  had  not  known  what  she  did  about  you  long  before. 
You  know,  I  suppose,  ma'am,  that  she  did  not  come  into  full  pos- 
session of  her  large  property  as  an  heiress  until  seven  or  eight 
months  before  her  death,  when  her  father  died.  She  was  very 
rich  after  that,  and  everything  was  at  her  own  disposal.  Have 
you  heard  how  Lady  Mulgrave  made  her  will,  ma'am  ?' 

'  No,  Mary ;  I  have  heard  no  news  of  my  family  since  I  left 
Ireland.' 

"  Well,  ma'am,  then  I  have  the  pleasure  of  telling  you  that 
she  has  left  you  five  thousand  pounds  in  cash  ;  and  in  her  good- 
ness, she  has  left  me  also  the  sum  of  five  hundred ;  and  the 
whole  remainder  of  her  fortune,  except  a  few  remembrances  to 
friends  and  charities,  she  has  left  to  Sir  Felix.  She  was  so 
anxious  for  his  conversion  from  popery,  ma'am,  that  she  used  to 
talk  to  him  on  the  subject  every  day,  and  even  in  her  last 
moments. 

'  Her  mortal  remains,  ma'am,  were  carried  by  Sir  Felix  to 
Mulgrave  Castle,  and  laid  in  state  there,  and  then  buried  in  the 
family  vault.  Of  course,  ma'am,  I  came  down  with  the  family 
to  Ireland,  and  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  the  dear  old  castle, 
and  feeling  myself  once  more  at  home  in  it.  Mrs.  O'Connell 
was  still  there,  and  we  found  everything  in  beautiful  order ;  but 
it  was  very  dreary  Avithout  them  that  were  gone,  and  I  did 
nothing  but  cry  for  the  first  day  or  two.' 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSHII'.  269 

On  this  subject  I  could  not  restrain  my  own  tears,  but  was 
soon  able  to  say,  '  How  did  the  place  look,  Mary  ?  You  know 
all  my  favourite  spots,  and  trees,  and  arbours, — did  you  take 
notice  of  their  appearance  ?' 

'  Oh,  ma'am,  I  was  for  ever  running  to  look  at  them,  for  I  was 
always  thinking  of  you  when  we  got  to  the  castle.  And  though 
the  trees  had  lost  all  their  leaves  before  we  arrived  there  in  De- 
cember, I  noticed  particularly  the  two  that  were  planted  by  you, 
ma'am,  and  the  Marquis  de  Grammont,  on  the  mound  in  the 
park.  They  are  very  much  grown  ;  but  yours — the  acacia,  ma'am 
— overtops  the  oak.  They  say  that  is  because  the  oak  tree  is  a 
tree  slow  in  growing ;  but  the  marquis  said,  when  he  saw  the 
difference,  that  he  was  proud  of  the  ascendancy  of  the  acacia — 
that  was  his  word,  ma'am,  to  Sir  Felix  ;  and  that  it  would  ever 
be  the  pride  of  his  life  to  render  homage  to  it.' 

'  The  marquis,  did  you  say,  Mary  ?     What  marquis  ?' 

'  Monsieur  de  Grammont,  ma'am.' 

4  You  bewilder  me,  Mary.  Are  you  not  confounding  the  past 
with  the  present  ?' 

'  No,  ma'am.  The  Marquis  de  Grammont  came  on  a  visit  to 
Sir  Felix  while  I  was  at  the  castle,  immediately  on  his  return 
from  India.  But  I  beg  your  pardon,  ma'am.  I  forgot  that  you 
had  not,  perhaps,  heard  of  the  marquis's  travels  in  foreign 
lands.' 

I  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  inquire  if  the  marchioness 
was  with  her  husband. 

4 1  don't  know  of  any  such  lady,  ma'am,'  said  Mary.  '  Cer- 
tainly, the  marquis  has  nd  wife.' 

4  Is  the  marchioness,  then  dead  ?' 

'  He  has  never  been  married,  ma'am.' 

A  silence  ensued  ;  after  which,  I  said  to  Mary,  '  Do  you  recol- 
lect that  we  heard  of  the  marquis's  marriage,  and  saw  it  an- 
nounced in  a  Dublin  paper,  at  the  bishop's  house,  before  I  was 
married,  or  had  consented  to  be  so  ?' 

'  It  was  a  false  report,  ma'am.  The  marquis's  gentleman  told 
me,  that  when  his  master  heard  of  your  marriage,  ma'am,  he 
was  at  his  hotel  in  Paris,  and  had  so  long  an  illness  on  account 
of  it,  that  they  all  thought  he  would  never  recover.  "When  he 


2?0  HELKN    MULGRAVE  ;    OB, 

was  able  to  leave  his  room,  he  set  off  for  Italy,  where  he  re- 
mained for  two  or  three  years.  After  that,  he  returned  to 
France  to  look  after  his  estates  for  a  little  while,  and  then  set 
off  to  the  Holy  Land.  After  that  he  went  to  the  East  Indies, 
and  visited  Sir  Lucius  and  Lady  Mac  Neil ;  and  his  gentleman 
tolls  me,  ma'am,  that  Lady  Mac  Neil  is  handsomer  than  ever.' 

I  was  so  much  affected  by  what  I  had  heard,  that  in  spite  of 
every  effort  to  prevent  it,  I  fainted.  When  Mary  had  restored 
me,  by  the  customary  remedies,  I  lay  long  in  silence,  and  in  a 
state  of  feeling  that  seemed  to  shatter  my  whole  frame.  It 
touched  me  to  the  very  soul,  that  I  should  have  been  the  cause 
of  so  much  suffering  to  Monsieur  de  Grammont.  The  falsehood 
respecting  his  marriage,  that  had  been  played  off  on  me,  to  per- 
suade me  that  he  was  false,  must  have  been  perpetrated  by  those 
who  were  interested  in  deceiving  me.  What  an  odious  wrong 
had  I  been  compelled  to  commit  against  him !  How  could  I 
ever  be  reinstated  in  his  good  opinion  ?  And  how  could  I  en- 
dure, though  I  might  never  see  him  more,  that  I  must  for  ever 
remain,  in  his  estimation,  a  perjured,  faithless  creature,  who 
feared  not  God,  nor  regarded  man  !  It  is  true  that  I  had  been 
sacrificed,  at  last,  by  my  own  vow  of  obedience  to  my  unc"le, 
extorted  by  fears  for  his  life ;  and  that  vow  was  not  uttered 
until  after  I  had  heard  of  the  marquis's  marriage.  But  who 
could  now  obtrude  this  subject  on  him,  so  as  to  make  him  ac- 
quainted with  the  exonerating  facts  of  the  case  ? 

These  ruminations  were  deeply  distressing  to  me,  and  threw 
me  back  so  much  in  my  progress  towards  recovery,  that  my 
doctor  perceived  their  effects  at  his  next  visit,  without  being 
able  to  discover  the  cause.  I  was  again  forbidden  all  conversa- 
tion and  excitement  of  every  kind.  I  submitted  willingly.  I 
had  no  wish  to  learn  more  about  the  marquis  from  Mary,  having 
already  food  and  facts  for  reflection,  that  seemed  inexhaustible 
in  their  power  to  torment  me.  But  the  past,  as  it  can  never  be 
recalled,  can  only  become  useful  by  being  rendered  tributary  to 
the  future ;  and  I  resolved,  as  some  atonement  for  the  uncon- 
scious wrong  I  had  done  Monsieur  de  Grammont,  to  cherish  a 
never-ending  regret.  It  was  some  satisfaction  to  find  that  he 
was  not  entirely  alienated  from  me.  Yet  I  could  not  understand 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  2*71 

how  he  could  be  otherwise,  without  knowing  all  the  circumstan- 
ces attending  my  marriage,  and  the  barbarous  coercion  that  had 
been  used  to  accomplish  it.  I  resolved,  however,  not  to  allow 
my  imagination  to  deceive  me,  by  the  supposition  that  monsieur 
de  Grammont  could  now  entertain  any  other  sentiment  for  me 
than  that  of  compassion  for  the  sufferings  I  had  been  compelled 
to  endure.  I  turned  from  this  subject,  to  contemplate,  with 
unmixed  satisfaction,  the  income  created  by  my  aunt's  bequest. 
This  was  a  substantial  good,  that  inspired  me  with  boundless 
gratitude,  both  to  God,  and  the  immediate  bestower  of  it.  It 
was  more  than  double  the  amount  of  the  pittance  I  had  just  lost, 
and  would  enable  me  to  live  in  comfort  and  competency  with 
my  two  children. 

Almost  to  the  present  hour  I  had  been  ignorant  of  how  the 
expenses  of  my  illness,  and  of  the  hotel,  were  to  be  defrayed, 
and  feared  I  might  be  living  at  Mary's  expense.  In  short,  my 
position  was  a  mystery,  which  I  was  afraid  to  pry  into,  but  tho 
perpetual  recurrence  of  which  to  my  thoughts  kept  me  anxious 
and  restless,  and  no  doubt  materially  retarded  my  recovery. 
But  now,  thanks  for  ever  to  my  bounteous  aunt,  and  to  her  who 
had  moved  her  to  such  kindness,  I  should  be  able  to  pay  all 
my  expenses,  and  to  thank  God  with  sincere  gratitude  for  pre- 
serving my  life.  Yet  I  was  still  lost  in  wonder  at  the  extraor- 
dinary and  rapid  change  in  my  affairs,  the  immediate  causes  of 
which  it  was  impossible  for  me  fully  to  understand,  until  I  had 
been  further  enlightened  by  Mary,  who  seemed  to  have  been  the 
chief  agent  in  a  Divine  hand  of  producing  it. 

My  dear  boy,  however,  still  continued  a  source  of  abiding  and 
unspeakable  disquietude,  for  no  one  about  me  could  afford  the 
slightest  information  respecting  him,  and  I  was  as  yet  unable 
to  make  any  new  effort  to  recover  him.  It  was  long  before  I 
had  nerve  enough  to  utter  even  his  name  to  Mary,  who  had 
received  some  imperfect  account  of  him  from  his  sisters,  and 
who  had  too  much  feeling  to  broach  a  subject  which  she  knew 
must  be  painful.  She  was  well  informed  of  what  had  passed 
betwixt  the  Jesuit  and  myself  respecting  my  access  to.  the  child, 
before  I  left  Ireland,  and  was  therefore  able  to  form  her  own 
silent  conjectures,  and  to  participate  in  the  disquietude  to  which 
ehe  saw  that  I  was  occasionally  a  prey. 


272  HELEN  MULORAVB;  OR, 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

IT  was  now  April,  and  since  I  had  been  last  abroad,  every- 
thing in  nature  must  have  advanced  so  much  as  to  make  the 
public  gardens  and  walks  look  like  a  new  world.  I  saw  proofs 
of  this  in  the  small,  well-arranged  parterre,  overlooked  by  my 
chamber  window,  and  in  the  constant  supply  of  flowers  which 
appeared  every  morning  fresh  on  my  table. 

I  longed  to  breathe  the  air  of  the  Tuileries  or  the  Bois  de  Bou- 
logne, but  my  doctor  was  so  much  afraid  of  a  relapse,  that  he 
still  required  perfect  quietude,  to  restrain,  he  said,  the  action  of 
the  too  rapid  pulse.  But  Mary's  information  was  the  remedy 
for  '  a  mind  diseased,'  and  I  now  felt  assured  that  I  should  not 
much  longer  need  the  doctor.  Yet  I  had  lived  so  long  in  a  state 
of  perpetual  agitation  and  startling  vicissitude,  that  it  was  diili- 
cult  for  me  to  believe  in  pecuniary  security,  or  feel  assurance  of 
permanence  in  any  arrangement  of  life. 

But  this  was  a  morbid  state  of  feeling,  which  I  might  hope 
would  pass  away  as  I  became  habituated  to  comfort,  and  felt  an 
abiding  exemption  from  the  bitterness  and  gall  of  that  uncertain 
subsistence  which  had  so  long  preyed  on  my  vitals. 

On  the  following  week  Mary  resumed  her  narrative,  beginning 
again  where  she  had  left  off,  with  Monsieur  de  Grammont. 

'  The  marquis,'  said  she,  '  when  he  heard  that  I,  who  had  been 
so  long  in  your  service,  ma'am,  was  in  Mulgrave  Castle  with  Sir 
Felix's  people,  sent  for  me,  to  inquire  whether  you  were  in 
health,  and  what  was  your  place  of  residence ;  and  after  a  while 
he  Avas  so  earnest,  ma'am,  that  he  got  everything  out  of  me 
which  happened  to  you  before  you  left  Ireland,  and  sorry  I  was 
that  I  could  tell  him  no  more,  for  I  was  miserable  myself  to 
know  how  France  suited  you  and  the  dear  children.' 

'  You  told  the  marquis  everything,  Mary  ?' 

'  Yes,  ma'am,  I  told  him  all  about  your  marriage,  and  the  loss 
of  your  property,  and  Father  Ossory's  conversion  and  death,  and 
a  great  deal  more ;  but  I  hope  I  didn't  tell  him  more  than  I 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  273 

ought,  he  seemed  so  very  unhappy  about  you,  that  when  once  I 
hegan,  I  couldn't  stop.  As  soon  as  he  heard  that  you  had  gone 
to  Paris,  he  was  for  setting  out  there  the  next  day;  hut  as  I 
could  not  give  him  your  address,  he  sent  me  off  in  his  own  car- 
riage, five  miles,  to  get  it  from  your  agent,  ma'am.  When  I  got 
to  the  agent's  house,  he  was  not  at  home,  and  I  was  obliged  to 
come  away  without  the  address.  The  marquis  then  said  he 
must  see  the  cottage  where  you  had  lived,  and  I  must  show  him 
the  window  into  which  the  shot  had  been  fired.  After  that  he 
drove  to  the  burying-ground,  where  the  little  infants  and  Father 
Ossory  lie ;  and  I  went  on  the  box  with  the  coachman,  and 
showed  the  marquis  everything.  I  couldn't  help  crying  at  sight 
of  the  graves,  and  the  beautiful  tombs  placed  over  them  by  Lady 
Mulgrave.  Monsieur  de  Grammont  walked  away  by  himself, 
after  he  had  looked  at  them,  and  I  didn't  see  what  he  thought 
of  them.  Next  day,  he  sent  me  again  to  your  agent,  ma'am ; 
and  then  I  got  your  address,  and  was  informed  at  the  same  time 
that  all  your  remaining  property,  on  which  your  income 
depended,  had  been  burnt  by  an  incendiary  fire ;  and  that, 
owing  to  neglect  of  the  insurance  on  it,  all  was  gone.  It  was 
this  dreadful  news,  ma'am,  that  made  me,  with  Sir  Felix's  leave, 
set  out  to  Paris  to  seek  you,  and  I  have  brought  from  him  a 
draft  on  Mr.  O'Callaghan's  bank  here,  for  money  for  your  imme- 
diate use,  ma'am.' 

Mary  here  suspended  her  narrative,  as  she  saw  that  I  was 
unable  to  bear  more  at  that  moment. 

After  all,  thought  I,  as  I  was  left  to  myself,  it  is  to  Monsieur 
de  Grammont's  solicitude  about  me,  that  the  discovery  of  my 
loss  was  made  known  to  Sir  Felix  in  time  to  save  me !  The 
dream  which  I  had  at  Mulgrave  Castle,  in  which  Monsieur  de 
Grammont  became  my  deliverer,  by  striking  down  the  arm  of 
the  phantom  that  held  the  dagger  over  me,  was  now  so  strongly 
brought  back  to  my  recollection,  that  at  this  moment  I  might 
easily  have  been  persuaded  to  subscribe  to  Mary's  creed  of  omens 
and  dreams. 

1  But,  Mary,'  said  I,  when  I  again  felt  able  to  listen  to  her, 
'you  have  not  told  me  when  you  left  Ireland,  or  when  you 
arrived  in  Paris.' 

12* 


274  HELEN  MULORAVK;  OR, 

1 1  left  IreTand,  ma'am,  immediately  after  we  had  heard  of 
your  loss  by  the  fire;  and  arrived  in  Paris  on  the  very  day 
before  I  met  with  you.  On  the  same  evening,  Saturday,  I  went, 
according  to  the  address  1  had  received  from  your  agent  in  Ire- 
land, to  the  house  of  Madame  de  Corbiere,  in  the  Rue  d'Angou- 
leme;  but  not  being  able  to  see  madame  herself,  I  could  not 
obtain  the  name  of  the  place  which  you  had  removed  to  on 
leaving  her  house,  until  Sunday,  the  following  day.  And  even 
then,  ma'am,  I  was  several  hours  in  finding  Fanchette's  place ; 
because  she  was  known,  at  Madame  de  Corbiere's,  only  by  her 
Christian  name.  When  I  did  at  last  find  the  place,  Fanchette's 
entresol  was  locked,  and  the  porter  at  the  lodge  told  me  that  she 
was  out  of  town,  and  the  lady  living  with  her  gone  out  with  her 
children  to  walk.  It  was  then,  ma'am,  that  I  went  to  the 
Champs  Elysees  to  look  for  you  ;  but  not  meeting  with  you,  I 
returned  to  the  entresol,  where  I  was  so  happy  as  to  find  you, 
ma'am.' 

4  But  how  came  the  dog  to  be  with  you,  Mary  ?' 

'  Sir  Felix  allowed  me  to  bring  him  as  a  companion,  ma'am ; 
as  I  felt  rather  timid  about  travelling  alone.' 

'Ah,  Mary,'  said  I,  as  I  held  out  my  hand  to  her,  '  you  imist 
be  a  happy  creature,  to  have  saved  three  human  beings  from 
death.  And  I  am  not  less  happy  in  owing  my  life,  and  that  of 
my  children,  to  your  attachment  and  exertions.  But  you  have 
still  much  more  to  tell  me.  Where  did  you  leave  the  marquis  ?' 

'  I  thought,  ma'am,  that  I  had  left  him  at  the  castle ;  but 
when  I  got  to  Paris,  I  found  him  here.  And  what  surprised  me 
more  than  this  was,  that  I  was  told  he  had  crossed  the  sea  in 
the  same  vessel  as  myself,  and  had  been  all  the  way  caring  for 
me,  and  seeing  that  I  had  my  due.  I  was  certainly  a  little  sur- 
prised when  I  found  everything  go  so  smoothly  everywhere, 
especially  at  the  Custom  house,  and  at  Rouen,  where  my  trunks 
were  opened  and  examined  a  second  time.  But  one  of  the  mar- 
quis's grooms,  who  met  him  on  his  arrival  at'  Havre,  was  a 
stranger  to  me,  and,  by  his  master's  orders,  did  everything, 
without  my  knowing  that  any  one  was  acting  for  me.  The 
marquis  himself  I  never  saw.  till  I  got  to  this  hotel,  where  I 
ciunc  through  the  advice  of  the  same  groom,  whom  I  found  at 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSHIP.  275 

the  coach-office  waiting  for  me,  and  who  seemed  so  very  civil  to 
me, — though  he  spoke  but  very  little  English, — that  I  took  his 
advice ;  and  an  hour  after  I  got  here,  his  noble  and  kind  master 
called  to  speak  to  me,  and  to  urge  me  to  lose  no  time  in  looking 
for  you,  ma'am.' 

'Ah,  Leonce !'  I  exclaimed,  mentally,  '  why  are  you  so  kind 
to  one  who  has  caused  you  so  much  suffering  ? — And  where  is 
Monsieur  de  Grammont  now,  Mary  ?'  I  resumed ,  '  and  when 
did  you  see  him  last  ?' 

4 1  have  seen  him  this  very  morning,  ma'am ;  he  calls  here 
every  day  to  inquire  after  you.  It  is  he  who  sends  the  fresh 
flowers  and  the  fine  fruit,  and  who  sent  the  dolls  to  the  young 
ladies.' 

'  Do  not  tell  me  any  more  of  the  marquis,  Mary ;  what  you 
tell  me  gives  me  pain.' 

'  I  am  sure,  ma'am,  I  don't  think  he  would  do  anything  wil- 
fully to  give  you  pain.' 

'  Oh,  no,  Mary,  I  am  sure  of  that.  But  my  strength  is  unequal 
to  the  weight  of  gratitude  I  feel  for  what  he  has  done,  for  you  as 
well  as  for  me.  But  let  us  drop  this  subject  for  the  present. 
You  have  not  given  me  any  information  respecting  Sir  Felix's 
health.' 

'  He  was  very  ailing  for  some  time,  ma'am,  but  he  grew  much 
better  after  we  arrived  at  the  castle ;  and  Mrs.  O'Connell  told 
me  that  the  great  property  he  got  at  his  lady's  death  would 
enable  him  to  disencumber  his  estates,  and  sit  down  at  ease  for 
the  remainder  of  his  life.' 

Just  at  this  moment,  two  letters  were  brought  in  from  Ireland, 
one  for  me  and  the  other  for  Mary.  As  I  saw  her  eagerness  to 
peruse  hers,  I  desired  her  to  go  to  her  own  room  with  her  letter, 
and  leave  me  to  read  mine.  It  was  from  my  uncle  Sir  Felix, 
and  it  was  the  first  time  I  had  attempted  to  read  since  my  illness, 
having  so  far  lost  the  power  of  sight,  as  not  to  be  able  to  read 
even  print,  when  I  first  began  to  recover.  As  my  uncle  always 
wrote  like  a  lawyer — a  very  illegible  hand — it  was  not  without 
difficulty  that  I  could  pick  out  the  meaning  of  his  letter ;  nor 
did  I  fully  understand  it,  after  half  an  hour's  poring  over  it. 

When  Mary  retu.rnea,  I  desired  her  to  read  it  to  mo.    As  she 


276  HKI.KN    MULOUAVE J    OR, 

liad  grown  familiar  with  his  hand  while  in  attendance  on  my 
aunt,  she  found  but  little  difficulty  in  deciphering  it.  The 
letter  contained  a  most  cordial  invitation  to  myself  and  children 
to  visit  Mulgrave  Castle  at  the  earliest  possible  time.  The  pre- 
sent season  my  uncle  thought  a  charming  one  for  reviewing  my 
former  home,  and  he  hoped  I  should  find  everything  in  as  good 
order  as  when  his  dear  brother  presided  there.  To  render  the 
visit  more  agreeable  to  me,  he  said,  he  had  already  invited  my 
mother  and  my  sister  Caroline,  and  also  his  old  friend  and  mine, 
Monsieur  de  Grammont ;  and  he  hoped  that  in  such  society  I 
might  be  able  to  renew  all  the  delights  of  my  childhood. 

Oh,  what  a  vision  of  bliss  did  this  invitation  open  to  me  !  It 
was  too  much  of  happiness !  My  fever  returned  for  a  few  hours, 
but  so  slightly,  as  to  indicate  a  great  increase  of  strength.  Yet 
I  was  not  allowed  to  see  my  children  for  two  days  after. 

When  they  were  again  permitted  to  come  into  my  room,  1 
found  them  habited  in  entire  new  suits  of  apparel,  in  the  sweet- 
est taste  imaginable,  d  la  Fran$aise.  It  was  well  this  surprise 
did  not  occur  earlier,  for,  as  it  was  it  almost  turned  my  brain, 
thus  to  see  my  dear  little  ragamuffins  so  caparisoned,  and  trans- 
formed from  skeletons  to  cherubs.  '  Who  has  done  this,  Mary  ?' 
was  my  instant  inquiry. 

*  I  hope,  ma'am,'  said  she,  in  her  most  deferential  and  modest 
manner,  '  you  will  not  be  offended.  But  Monsieur  de  Gramraont 
thought  the  season  had  changed  so  much  since  your  illness,  that 
the  children  must  be  suffering  for  want  of  a  suitable  change  of 
dress ;  he  therefore  desired  me  to  order  whatever  was  necessary 
for  the  season,  at  a  house  which  he  named,  saying  that  he  would 
himself  settle  the  bills  for  the  present,  as  it  was  impossible  for 
you  to  attend  to  them  in  your  present  state  of  health,  and  he 
could  easily  arrange  the  affair  with  you,  when  you  were  suffi- 
ciently recovered  to  receive  him.  I  think  he  must  have  been  at 
the  shop  and  left  orders  beforehand ;  for  when  I  got  there,  I 
found  everything  had  been  chosen  and  laid  by,  and  several 
changes  ordered  of  each  article.' 

My  heart  was  so  full,  that  I  was  unable  to  make  any  comment 
on  what  I  heard ;  and  after  caressing  the  children,  who  were  in 
boisterous  spirits,  I  desired  Mary  to  take  them  away. 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  27*7 

It  was  not  surprising  that  what  I  have  related  of  the  daily 
part  performed  by  Monsieur  de  Grammont,  for  the  comfort  of 
myself  and  children,  should  affect  me  deeply,  or  that,  after  con- 
templating the  metamorphoses  of  my  children,  I  wept  inexplica- 
ble tears  as  soon  as  I  found  myself  alone.  Oh,  how  I  longed  to 
be  able  to  receive  Monsieur  de  Grammont,  and  to  thank  him  in 
person  for  his  surpassing  kindness ; — and  yet  not  surpassing  for 
him, — it  was  his  nature  to  be  kind,  and  to  do  everything  in  the 
most  perfect  manner ;  and  although  his  attentions  were  of  the 
most  zealous  and  extraordinary  kind,  I  was  resolved  to  consider 
them  only  such  as  he  would  have  bestowed  on  any  human  being 
who  needed  them  as  much  as  I.  I  would  not  allow  a  single 
reminiscence  to  agitate  me,  or  one  tender  thought  to  mingle  with 
my  gratitude,  for  did  I  not  know  that  tenderness — 

Is  bliss,  but  to  a  certain  bound  ? 

I  therefore  endeavoured  to  wrap  myself  up  in  a  cold  and  calcu- 
lating gratitude,  which  should  adjust  the  balance  so  nicely,  as 
that  nothing  should  be  omitted  that  was  due  to  Monsieur  de 
Grammont  for  his  zeal  and  attentions,  and  yet  nothing  offered 
in  return,  that  could  be  construed  into  an  appeal  to  our  former 
relations.  How  truly  are  human  beings  '  Spirits,  hid  in  veils !' 

The  deep  and  enduring  sentiment  at  the  bottom  of  my  heart, 
that  rendered  all  expression  impotent,  was  to  be  thus  converted 
into  cold  and  tranquil  expressions  of  acknowledgment,  which 
must  check  any  awakening  of  dormant  affections.  And  was  not 
this  prudence  ?  For  how  could  I  be  so  presumptuous  as  to 
imagine  that  the  varied  conflicts  of  life  and  death  which  I  had 
passed  through  during  a  period  of  eleven  years  had  touched  me 
so  lightly  as  to  leave  me  unscathed,  and  essentially  the  same, 
and  still  capable  of  inspiring  those  sentiments  which  could  alone 
justify  me  in  cherishing  my  own? 

"While  I  was  thus  playing  the  casuist,  with  throbbing  pulses 
and  a  shrinking  heart,  I  received  a  small,  externally  elegant,  note, 
which,  as  I  recognised  the  hand  of  the  writer,  was  soon  torn 
open,  and  I  read  as  follows : — 

'  Monsieur  de  Grainmont  presents  his  most  respectful  regards 


278  HKLEN    ftl'LGKAVK  ;    OR, 

t»  Mrs.  Fitzgerald,  and  begs  to  offer  her  his  fervent  felicitations 
ou  the  progress  which  lie  is  informed  she  is  making  towards 
health.  He  would  be  most  happy  to  be  indulged  with  an  inter- 
view with  her  for  a  few  minutes,  as  soon  as  it  may  be  permitted 
without  injury.  But  although  he  has  urgent  reasons  for  this 
request,  he  entreats  that  it  may  not  be  granted,  if  there  be  the 
slightest  apprehension  of  its  proving  hurtful  to  Mrs.  Fitzgerald, 
in  whose  sufferings  he  has  deeply  participated,  and  in  whose  con- 
valescence are  wrapped  up  so  many  interests  and  hopes  unut- 
terably dear  to  all  connected  with  her. 

'  Hotel  de  Grammont, 
May,  182T.1 

The  receipt  of  this  note  was  an  event  which  I  at  once  felt  to 
be  replete  with  consequences,  and  yet  such  a  request  might  have 
been  expected  even  earlier.  It  was  but  a  natural  movement  of 
courtesy  to  acquit  itself  of  a  conventional  obligation.  Why, 
then,  not  let  it  pass  for  what  it  was?  But  at  least  an  answer 
must  be  returned,  and  after  much  effort,  for  I  had  not  used  my 
pen  for  two  months,  and  had  scarcely  regained  rny  sight,  I 
wrote  thus — 

'  Mrs.  Fitzgerald  begs  to  acknowlege  the  receipt  of  Monsieur 
de  Grammont's  note  of  this  morning,  and  to  assure  him,  that  she 
could  not  allow  any  consideration  for  her  health  to  deprive  her 
of  the  pleasure  of  receiving  his  proposed  visit  at  his  first  leisure. 
She  owes  him  too  much  not  to  desire  such  an  interview — far 
more,  perhaps,  than  he  can  do ;  and  although  she  is  fully  aware 
how  little  she  will  be  able,  in  her  present  state  of  weakness,  to 
do  justice  to  the  sentiments  of  gratitude  which  animate  her, 
she  feels  that  it  will  be  the  highest  gratification  to  her  to  have 
an  opportunity  of  expressing  them. 

'  Hotel  Montmorency.' 

The  morning  of  the  morrow  was  fixed  for  this  redoubted  visit. 
Yes,  that  was  the  time  that  was  to  decide  my  fate  for  ever; 
either  by  filling  the  heavens  with  sunbeams,  or  by  covering  both 
earth  and  sky  with  '  a  darkness  that  might  be  felt !'  As  my  feel- 
ings arrived  at  this  conclusion,  I  was  startled  at  myself,  for  I 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSHIP.  279 

could  not  but  observe  that  common  sense  was  falling  asleep ;  and 
that  instead  of  the  mere  visit  of  courtesy,  or  perhaps  of  busi- 
ness, which  had  been  arranged,  imagination  was  converting  it 
into  an  incident  of  doom.  Where  was  that  tranquil  future  that 
I  had  sketched  for  myself  and  my  children,  with  which  I  was  so 
lately  satisfied,  and  which  comprised  but  the  simplest  and  most 
attainable  objects?  What  had  become  of  my  thankfulness  for 
the  competent  income  that  was  now  mine,  and  which  was  to 
obtain  for  me  that  which  brought  me  originally  to  Paris  ?  All 
this  was  for  the  momenfforgotten,  and  the  future  was  staked  on 
the  cast  of  a  die — on  a  word — a  look — a  tone ! 

In  such  a  world  of  nothings,  imagination  delights  to  revel ; 
and  while  writing  horoscopes  in  air,  or  tracing  their  shadows  on 
the  sands  of  the  earth,  fulfils  its  own  peculiar  vocation. 

While  tormenting  myself  thus  with  the  vagaries  of  both  fate 
and  fancy,  Fanchette,  my  late  kind  hostess  of  the  entresol,  was 
ushered  into  my  room  by  Mary. 

As  she  had  never  seen  me  since  my  illness  but  in  bed,  she 
approached  the  sofa  on  which  I  was  reclining,  with  warm  greet- 
ings and  congratulations  on  finding  me  there.  Her  joyous  tone, 
which  in  far  different  circumstances  had  been  wont  to  infuse  a 
momentary  cheerfulness  into  my  heart,  was  so  associated  with 
the  suffering  endured  under  her  roof,  that  now,  as  it  struck  on 
my  ear,  it  affected  me  like  the  touch  of  the  torpedo;  and  I 
shivered  as  I  sent  a  fearful  glance  of  retrospection  on  the  straw 
beds,  and  famishing  diet,  which  had  brought  me  face  to  face  with 
death  in  a  most  fearful  form. 

Fanchette,  with  her  accustomed  quick  perception  of  the  feel- 
ings of  others,  saw  the  shock  that  passed  over  me,  and 
exclaimed, — '  Ah,  madame  I  the  sight  of  me  pains  you !  But  I 
shall  never  forgive  myself,  if  I  am  so  unfortunate  as  always  to 
remind  you  of  the  past.  I  assure  you,  madame,  I  am  unable  to 
sleep  at  night,  even  now,  when  I  happen  to  think  of  you  and 
your  sufferings  in  my  poor  entresol.1  I  was  soon  able  to  reassure 
Fanchette,  and  to  thank  her  for  all  her  kindness  to  me;  not 
without  a  secret  hope,  that  at  some  future  and  not  distant  time, 
I  might  be  .able  to  offer  her  something  more  valuable  than 
words. 


280  HELEN    MULOKAVE  ;    OK, 

The  retrospects  which  the  sight  of  this  good  creature  led  me 
to  make,  again  recalled  to  me  the  miraculous  deliverances  which 
had  been  wrought  for  me  by  that  unseen  hand,  in  which  are  the 
issues  of  life.  For  while  I  owed  far  more  than  I  could  ever 
repay,  in  gratitude  and  affection  to  the  immediate  instruments 
of  my  rescue  from  death,  yet  that  surprising  conjunction  of 
events,  by  which  thfe  great  results  in  human  life  are  produced, 
can  only  be  accomplished  by  Him  who  holds  equal  empire  over 
the  visible  and  invisible  things  of  our  complicated  existence. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

I  HAD  been  kept  awake  during  the  greater  part  of  the  night 
by  harassing  thoughts  and  conflicting  feelings,  and  rose  at  a  later 
hour  than  usual,  unrefreshed  and  feverish  ;  for  did  I  not  know 
that,  with  a  skeleton  form  too  weak  to  hold  itself  erect,  and 
with  the  paleness  of  death  on  my  cheek,  and  '  the  shadow  of 
death '  on  my  eyelids,  I  was  rushing  on  fate  in  that  .coming 
interview  ? 

Mary,  with  her  accustomed  interest,  was  endeavouring  to 
invigorate  my  nerves,  by  placing  me  in  my  chair  before  an  open 
window,  when  a  gentle  rap  at  the  door  of  the  ante-chamber 
announced  Monsieur  de  Grainmont. 

Mary  ushered  him  into  the  room,  and  withdrew.  As  I  had 
determined  to  conceal  my  feelings,  I  endeavoured  to  assume  a 
tranquil  exterior.  But  it  would  not  do.  The  smothered 
anxiety  became  a  paralyzing  oppression.  As  Monsieur  de 
Grammont  entered,  I  falteringly  rose,  and  moved  forward  to 
receive  him.  Our  eyes  met — and  in  that  look  of  unutterable 
tenderness  and  deep  sympathy,  with  which  we  had  been  wont  to 
meet  so  many  years  since.  'Helen!'  was  his  only  word  of 
greeting;  and  though  scarcely  audible,  the  magic  of  his  voice 
had  reached  my  soul.  I  staggered,  and  should  have  fallen,  but 
for  the  supporting  arm  that  prevented  it.  Leonce  led  me  to  my 
chair,  and,  kneeling  before  me,  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  for 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSHIP.  281 

some  minutes  in  silence ;  during  which  we  were  both  lost  in 
feelings  of  tumultuous  joy  and  sorrow.  For  had  we  not  already, 
in  a  single  glance,  recognised  in  each  other  a  record  of  those 
years  of  absence  and  of  suffering  to  which  we  had  both  been 
consigned  ?  And  were  we  not  once  more  restored  to  each  other, 
and  to  those  sentiments  of  deep  and  imperishable  attachment 
which  had  been  so  long  suppressed?  And  yet,  when  we 
attempted  to  speak,  in  what  language  were  our  feelings  uttered  ? 
Not  in  words  of  love,  or  even  of  friendship ;  but  in  tears  that 
Avould  not  be  repressed. 

As  some  degree  of  tranquillity  returned,  Monsieur  de  Gram- 
mont  once  more  offered  me  his  hand ;  that  hand  which  had  been 
twice  offered  before,  and  which  was  now  accepted  with  unut- 
terable gratitude,  though  I  felt  that  I  yet  fluctuated  betwixt  life 
and  death.  An  interval  of  many  years  was  thus  obliterated; 
yet  I  still  struggled  with  an  irrepressible  emotion,  which  only 
tears  could  assuage.  For  what  a  miserable  gift  was  I  bestowing, 
in  myself,  on  Leonce !  Though  our  fate  was  now  in  our  own 
hands,  instead  of  in  those  of  a  prejudiced  and  inflexible  uncle,  we 
had  still  mutual  misgivings  of  what  our  future  might  prove,  and 
almost  feared  again  to  separate,  lest  some  untoward  occurrence 
might  intervene,  and  prevent  a  reunion.  Leonce,  who  knew 
much  more  of  the  mysterious  power  that  had  coiled  itself  around 
me  than  I  could  know,  was  well  aware  that  I  lived  but  on  the 
sufferance  of  the  Jesuit. 

He  looked  very  pale,  and  deep  lines  of  thought  and  suffering 
were  stamped  on  his  fine  face,  rendering  it,  if  possible,  more  than 
ever  interesting  to  me.  There  was  also  an  air  of  delicate  health 
about  him,  which  alarmed  me ;  but  when  I  inquired  respecting 
it,  he  assured  me  it  was  occasioned  only  by  the  anxiety  he  had 
so  long  felt,  for  my  restoration  to  health  and  to  himself. 

'  For  what  did  I  know  of  your  feelings  towards  me  ?'  said  he. 
•  '  Time  and  circumstance,  which  wear  out  so  many  hearts,  might 
not  have  spared  yours.  You  had  become  a  mother.  Had 
maternal  affection  exhausted  your  heart  of  other  affections?  or 
might  not  sorrow  and  suffering  so  unparalleled  as  yours,  have 
bereaved  you  of  the  power  to  love?  It  was  thus  I  questioned  ; 
knowing,  however,  that  an  interview  would  decide  my  fate ;  for 


HELEN    MULORAVK  *,    OR, 

I  felt  myself  as  exigeant  as  ever  of  that  sympathy  you  had  once 
bestowed  on  me,  and  which  could  alone  satisfy  my  heart,  and 
which,  if  wanting  now,  must  leave  me  in  an  eternal  isolation. 
JUit  your  unchanged  heart  averts  that  wretched  fate.  Oh, 
Helen!'  he  continued,  in  a  suppliant  voice,  '  you  must  recover, 
that  you  may  bless  me ;  you  must  recover,  that  you  may  also 
bless  your  children,  and  that  we  may  return  together  to  that  dear 
home  of  your  infancy  where  we  first  met,  and  where  you  taught 
me  first  to  love.' 

Dreams  of  early  life  thus  awaKened,  all  the  sorrows  of  our 
past  lives  were  for  the  moment  buried  in  forgetfulness ;  and  we 
began  to  realize  the  idea  that  we  might  once  more  find  happi- 
ness on  earth,  spite  of  the  power  that,  walking  in  darkness,  still 
pursued  me. 

We  turned  our  thoughts  from  this  menacing  evil  to  Him  who 
is  the  well-spring  of  life,  and  in  whom  are  treasured  up  all  the 
sources  of  human  felicity,  both  for  time  and  eternity. 

******* 

On  the  following  morning,  by  order  of  Monsieur  de  Grammont, 
an  invalid  carriage  was  brought  to  my  door,  in  which  I  was 
placed  on  a  bed,  under  a  canopy  of  green  silk,  and  taken  out  to 
the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  Mary  accompanying  me,  and  Monsieur  de 
Grammont  riding  on  horseback  by  the  side  of  my  carriage. 

The  sweet  zephyrs  of  May — that  month  of  all  others  which 
wakes  the  heart  and  inspires  happiness — fanned  my  brows,  and 
infused  into  me  new  life.  Meanwhile,  L6once,  as  my  escort, 
was  flitting  backwards  and  forwards  before  my  charmed  sight, 
and  words  and  tones  of  magic  import  were  addressing  themselves 
to  my  listening  ear.  All  heaven  and  earth  seemed  bathed  in 
bright  beams  of  light  and  beauty. 

In  about  a  week,  I  was  able  to  dispense  with  the  invalid-car- 
riage, and  to  ride  out  in  an  ordinary  chariot,  with  Le"once  by 
my  side.  In  another  week,  a  furnished  house  was  hired  at  '  St. 
Germain-en-Laye,'  for  my  family  and  myself;  near  which,  at 
the  Hotel  d'Angleterre,  Monsieur  de  Grammont  took  apart- 
ments for  himself.  This  experiment  formed  the  last  of  a  series, 
which  had  been  successfully  arranged  for  my  recovery.  In  the 
charming  air  of  this  salubrious  Ideality  we  lived  from  morning 


JESCIT  EXECUTORSHIP.  283 

till  night,  as  the  weather  permitted,  in  the  open  air ;  now  ram- 
bling through  the  cool  paths  of  its  beautiful  wood,  or  sauntering 
in  the  shades  of  its  park,  or  contemplating  the  expanded  and 
varied  views,  stretched  out  in  distance,  in  the  valley  before  its 
elevated  terrace.  The  children  grew  far  handsomer  and  stronger 
than  I  had  ever  seen  them ;  and  Mary  and  Rover  also  seemed  to 
be  as  much  benefited  as  Monsieur  de  Grarnmont  and  myself. 

In  a  few  weeks,  a  wonderful  change  had  taken  place  in  my 
appearance  and  health  ;  and  I  was  able  to  accompany  Monsieur 
de  Grammont  on  horseback  every  day,  and  to  employ  the  inter- 
vals of  this  exercise  in  attentions  to  my  children,  and  other  long- 
neglected  duties.  At  other  times  I  listened  to  the  reading  of 
Leouce,  whose  volume,  however,  was  only  made  tributary  to 
our  pleasure,  by  furnishing  thoughts  and  themes  for  the  endless 
conversation  with  which  we  every  moment  interrupted  the 
enunciation  of  its  pages.  Happy  as  I  had  been  at  my  first  res- 
toration to  an  intercourse  that  had  always  been  blissful,  it  was 
not  until  strength  had  returned  to  my  frame,  and  health  to  my 
pulses,  that  I  was  capable  of  understanding  the  full  value  of  that 
blessedness  which  awaited,  me  in  becoming  the  wife  of  Leonce. 
I  had  now  no  care  left,  except  that  of  regaining  such  an  amount 
of  firm  health  as  should  enable  me  to  enjoy  the  blessings  of  my 
lot.  What  a  change  !  No  wonder  that,  on  looking  at  the  past, 
I  sometimes  trembled  for  the  permanency  of  that  cloudless  sky 
which  now  shed  its  heavenly  brightness  on  everything  around 
me. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

MOXSIEUK  DE  GRAMMO.NT  availed  himself  of  my  improved 
health  to  return  to  Paris  for  a  few  days,  in  order  to  complete 
the  arrangements  preliminary  to  our  marriage. 

His  Majesty  Charles  X  ,  whose  formal  consent  to  the  marriage 
of  a  peer  of  France  was  indispensable,  had  already  signified  his 
approbation  of  our  union,  but  the  documents  remained  to  be 
signed. 


284  HELEN    MULGRAVE  J    OB, 

Although  I  brought  Monsieur  de  Grammont  no  dower,  ho 
insisted  on  settling  a  jointure  on  me,  suitable  to  his  own  rank 
and  fortune.  The  legacy  of  five  thousand  pounds  sterling,  left 
me  by  my  aunt,  he  prevailed  on  me  to  settle  irrevocably  on 
my  eldest  daughter,  Dora;  while  he  himself  settled  on  Caroline 
a  similar  amount.  He  thus  became  a  father  to  my  children,  in 
advance,  investing  and  securing  the  property  bestowed  on  them 
with  all  the  precision  and  precaution  of  a  practised  man  of 
business. 

In  becoming  the  wife  of  Monsieur  de  Grammont,  I  felt  it 
necessary  to  myself  that  Monsieur  de  Carryfort  should  be  called 
upon  for  an  explanation  of  the  insinuation  so  injurious  to  my 
honour  and  character  which  he  had  allowed  himself  to  make  in 
the  only  interview  with  him  which  I  had  ever  had. 

The  Murphys,  who,  I  had  no  doubt,  were  the  authors  of  all 
the  wrong  I  had  sustained  in  his  opinion,  were  both  dead ;  and 
before  this,  it  must  surely  have  been  made  known  to  Monsieur 
de  Carryfort  that  they  and  the  Brians  were  identical. 

This  latter  fact  ought  to  have  led  him  to  inquire  into  the  jus- 
tice of  statements,  influencing  his  opinion  of  me,  which  rested 
solely  on  their  authority. 

To  make  Monsieur  de  Grammont  perfectly  aufait  on  this,  to 
me,  important  subject,  I  had  placed  in  his  hands,  at  his  going  to 
Paris,  the  journal  of  my  life,  so  far  as  it  had  proceeded.  It  is 
unnecessary  for  me  to  say  how  much  he  had  been  affected  by  its 
perusal ;  but  bis  indignation  at  the  conduct  of  Monsieur  de  Car- 
ryfort was  extreme ;  and  he  agreed  with  me,  in  the  necessity  of 
requiring  from  him  an  explanation  of  it. 

Meanwhile  his  devotion  to  me  and  mine  in  absence  was 
expressed  daily  to  me  by  letter,  in  terms  far  stronger,  and  if  pos- 
sible more  tender  than  ever.  In  one  of  his  later  letters,  he  gave 
me  the  following  account  of  an  interview  which  he  had  sought 
and  obtained  of  Monsieur  de  Carryfort,  agreeably  to  our  mutual 
resolve. 

'  After  I  had  been  at  the  Irish  College,  and  extorted  from  the 
president  information  respecting  those  calumnies  which  had  been 
foisted  on  your  uncle  as  verities,  I  waited  by  appointment  on 
Monsieur  de  Carryfort,  yesterday  morning,  at  his  h6tel. 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  285 

'On  arriving  there,  I  was  ushered  into  a  charming  salon  on 
the  ground  floor,  opening  upon  the  lawn  at  the  back  of  his  house. 
Perhaps,  my  love,  the  same  room  as  that  in  which  you  were 
once  so  disdainfully  and  cruelly  treated  by  your  uncle.  He  did 
tnot  keep  me  waiting  an  instant;  but,  entering  with  a  cordial 
Jair,  walked  straight  up  to  me,  with  an  extended  hand,  as  if  con- 
fident of  my  friendly  grasp. 

'  I  had  forgotten,  that  in  requesting  this  interview,  I  had  said 
nothing  of  its  object,  or  I  might  have  been  more  tolerant  of  the 
confidence  with  which  he  assured  himself  of  my  cordiality. 

'  As  he  closely  approached  the  spot  on  which  I  stood,  like  an 
automaton,  to  await  his  advance,  his  proffered,  but  unrecognised 
hand,  fell  to  his  side.  After  exchanging  bows  of  courtesy,  we 
stood  before  each  other  with  cynical  looks,  and  a  rising  hos- 
tility of  expression.  Monsieur  de  Carryfort  broke  the  silence, 
by  saying — "  Am  I  to  understand  your  request  of  an  interview 
with  me,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  as  one  of  business,  or  of 
courtesy  ?" 

'  "Neither,  Monsieur  le  Comte — unless  justice  may  come 
under  the  category  of  business." 

'  We  were  both  still  standing,  and  growing  each  moment  more 
and  more  erect. 

'Monsieur  de  Carryfort  drew  a  chair  towards  me,  aad  took 
one  himself.  He  was  evidently  dubious  of  my  object,  and, 
determined  not  to  commit  himself,  awaited  what  I  had  to  say. 

'"Monsieur  le  Comte,"  I  began,  "perhaps  I  owe  you  an 
explanation  of  the  bearing  which  your  presence  inspires,  and 
which  I  could  not  have  allowed  myself  to  assume,  without  the 
conviction  that  I  should  betray  the  cause  which  brings  me  here, 
were  I  to  yield  but  for  a  moment  to  that  natural  reverence  for 
age  and  distinction,  which  otherwise  were  so  much  your  due. 

' "  I,  however,  confess  fhyself  in  a  singular  position,  when  I 
demand  of  you  redress  for  a  wrong  which  you  have  done  to  one 
of  your  own  blood,  without  first  exhibiting  the  authority  on 
which  I  act.  But  you  must  give  me  credit  in  advance  for  a 
right  to  make  the  demand." 

'  "  Monsieur  le  Marquis,"  said  the  count,  as  he  rose  hurriedly 
from  his  chair,  "  your  language  is  of  a  kind  which  I  am  not 


286  HEI.KN-  MCLGRAVE;  OR, 

accustomed  to  hear.  Nevertheless  as  you  have  proffered  an 
explanation  of  a  brusquerie,  which  I  am  aware  is  foreign  to  your 
character,  I  will  give  you  a  hearing ;  for  as  yet,  I  have  no  idea 
of  your  drift." 

'  1  had  risen  at  the  same  moment  with  the  count,  and  we  stood 
before  each  other  in  a  state  of  feeling  not  very  favourable  to 
explanation.  But  it  was  necessary  to  proceed,  and  I  said  to  him 
— "  As  a  preliminary  to  my  embassy,  Monsieur  le  Comte,  I  beg 
to  say,  that  I  am  here  at  the  request  of  your  niece,  Mrs. 
Fitzgerald,  to  obtain  of  you  an  explanation  of  some  offensive 
words  addressed  by  you  to  her,  some  months  since,  to  this  house. 
And  having  uttered  a  name  rendered  sacred  by  the  virtues  and 
sufferings  of  its  possessor,  I  have  probably  recalled  to  your  recol- 
lection, Monsieur  le  Comte,  the  interview  in  question.  'Is  it 
necessary  that  I  delineate  that  interview,  or  do  you  recollect  the 
sentiments  and  language  you  addressed  to  Mrs.  Fitzgerald  on 
that  occasion  ?" 

4  "  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  your  application  to  me  on  behalf  of 
my  niece  for  such  an  object  as  you  profess,  is,  permit  me  to  say, 
somewhat  singular.  Why  has  not  iny  niece  applied  to  me 
herself?  Can  it  be  supposed  that  an  intercessor  is  necessary 
betwixt  relatives  so  nearly  connected  ?  And  on  what  grounds 
do  you,  sir,  take  upon  yourself  a  service  so  Quixotic  as  that  of 
demanding  justice  of  me,  in  the  name  of  my  niece,  for  wrongs 
of  which  I  am  accused  towards  her  ?" 

'  "  I  wave  the  sarcasm,  Monsieur  le  Comte,  with  which  you 
have  embellished  your  demand  of  the  grounds  on  which  I  have 
presumed  to  act  in  an  affair  so  delicate.  I  have,  however, 
already  had  the  honour  to  inform  you  that  I  am  here  at  the 
request  of  Mrs.  Fitzgerald ;  and  I  beg  to  add,  that  I  am  hero 
also  on  my  own  account,  as  the  affianced  husband  of  Mrs.  Fitz- 
gerald ;  for  the  honour  of  whose  hand*  I  should  sue  in  vain,  until 
the  wrong  that  has  been  done  her  by  you,  sir,  shall  have  been 
redressed.  For  although  his  majesty  has  already  signified  his 
approbation  of  our  union,  Mrs.  Fitzgerald's  keen  sense  of  what 
is  due  to  female  honour  makes  it  necessary  to  herself  that  the 
wrong  in  question  be  explained." 

'Monsieur  de  Carryfort  here  advanced  towards  me,  again  with 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  287 

an  extended  hand,  which  I  could  not  a  second  time  decline, 
saying,  as  he  did  so,  "Monsieur  le  Marquis,  the  character  in 
which  you  have  now  announced  yourself  gives  you  so  undoubted 
a  right  to  make  the  inquiries  you  have  addressed  to  me,  that  I 
cannot  a  moment  longer  maintain  a  hostile  feeling  towards  you 
on  their  account,  or  a  reproachful  thought  of  my  niece  for 
prompting  you  to  make  them.  Question  me  as  you  please, 
therefore ;  I  will  answer  you  frankly." 

'  "  Ah,  Monsieur  le  Comte,  it  is  easy  for  me  to  question  you 
of  the  injury  w,hich  Mrs.  Fitzgerald  was  compelled  to  endure— I 
would  it  were  as  easy  to  believe  that  it  can  be  satisfactorily 
redressed.  But  how  will  you  now  atone  to  that  lacerated  heart, 
which,  in  want  and  sorrow,  supplicated  you  in  vain  only  to  be 
heard  in  her  own  defence?  What  explanation  can  you  offer  to 
a  pure  and  high-minded  woman,  whom  you  accused  of  making, 
forsooth,  'a  dubious  debut  in  the  gay  city  of  Paris?'  How  will 
you  explain  that  contempt  for  your  kneeling  and  broken-hearted 
niece,  which  caused  you  to  spurn  her  from  your  presence, 
expressing  at  the  same  time,  a  fear  that  in  coupling  your  name 
with  hers  in  an  official  document,  for  the  benefit  of  her  son,  you 
had  compromised  your  own  respectability  ?" 

'  The  count  exhibited  much  agitation  while  I  was  thus  forcing 
on  him  a  retrospect  so  mortifying  to  himself.  But  endeavouring 
to  carry  it  off  with  an  air  of  nonchalance,  he  said,  "  Monsieur  le 
Marquis,  it  is  well  that,  having  given  you  unbounded  license  in 
questioning  me,  I  have  also  promised  you  perfect  frankness  in 
reply.  Nevertheless,  I  fear  it  may  be  somewhat  difficult  to 
exculpate  myself  completely,  either  in  your  opinion  or  my  own, 
from  a  charge  of  precipitancy  in  the  judgment  I  formed  of  my 
niece.  I  cannot  but  regret  the  very  serious  mistake,  under 
which  I  assumed  that  part  towards  her  which  you  refer  to,  and 
which,  I  am  now  willing  to  acknowledge,  was  adopted  on  falla- 
cious grounds.  But  I  will  endeavour,  in  extenuation  of  my 
mistake,  to  state  to  you  briefly  what  those  grounds  were.  Pray, 
Monsieur,  do  me  the  honour  to  resume  your  seat,  and  give  me  a 
hearing.  You  are,  I  presume,  aware,  being  in  the  confidence  of 
Mrs.  Fitzgerald,  that  her  object  in  coming  to  Paris  was  to  claim 
access  to  her  son;  and  that  she  had  supplied  herself  with  tho 


288  HELEN    Ml  l.l.KAVK  ;    OR, 

necessary  documents  to  prove  her  right  to  make  that  claim. 
While  these  were  in  course  of  examination  by  the  Council  of  the 
Irish  College,  and  advancing  rapidly  towards  success,  several  let- 
ters were  received  by  the  Council,  from  some  one  who  must 
have  been  aware  of  the  residence  of  the  claimant,  informing 
them  that  she  was  associated  and  living  with  notorious  female 
swindlers.  More  than  this,  she  was  charged  in  these  letters  with 
having  obtained  fraudulently  various  sums  of  money  from  some 
friends  of  the  Marquis  dt  Grammont,  whose  name  was  influen- 
tially  used  in  obtaining  them."  At  this  point  I  lost  all  self-com- 
mand, and  interrupting  the  count  with  irrepressible  vehemence, 
exclaimed,  "Stop,  sir!  I  can  hear  no  more.  Answer  me  but 
one  question,  and  I  will  exempt  you  from  any  other — Who  was 
the  writer  of  those  iniquitous  accusations?  You  do  not  reply, 
Monsieur  le  Comte."  In  fact,  your  uncle  stood  like  one  petrified 
by  a  sudden  conviction  of  his  own  infatuated  credulity,  and  a 
third  time  I  'asked  who  was  the  author,  before  I  obtained  the 
damning  avowal  that — he  was  indeed  anonymous.  "  Anony- 
mous !  Was  it,  then,  Monsieur,  on  anonymous  assertion  that  you 
suffered  the  name  and  honour  of  your  niece,  a  young,  beautiful, 
and  defenceless  woman,  to  be  prostrated  in  the  dust  ?  Had  you 
forgotten  the  noble  stock  from  which  she  sprang,  and  the  pure 
blood  that  flowed  in  her  veins?  Was  the  daughter  of  such  a 
mother  as  Lady  Mulgrave — and,  I  will  add,  was  the  niece  of  Mon- 
sieur de  Carryfort,  to  be  thus  accused  and  condemned,  without 
evidence,  without  inquiry,  and  unheard,  by  a  calumniator  with- 
out a  name  ?  And  yet,  when  she  would  have  defended  herself 
— when  she  would  have  explained  to  you  every  circumstance  of 
her  life — you  spurned  her  from  your  presence,  and  commanded 
her  from  your  house,  with  bitterness  and  insult  that  must  have 
broken  any  female  heart  less  heroic  or  less  conscious  of 
innocence  than  that  of  your  transcendent  niece!" 

'  The  Count  de  Carryfort  quailed  under  this  additional  retro- 
spect of  his  injustice  and  inhumanity — but  made  no  reply. 

4  At  length,  excessively  irritated,  I  moved  towards  the  door, 
saying,  as  I  did  so,  "  What  message  do  you  authorize  me  to  bear 
from  you,  Monsieur  le  Comte,  to  Mrs.  Fitzgerald  ?" 

'  "  Monsieur  le  Marquis,"  said  the  old  man,  41  you  have  been 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSHIP.  289 

severe ;  but  I  will  not  complain  of  yon,  since  you  have  placed  in 
its  proper  light  the  neglect — for  you  must  not  call  it  by  a 
harsher  name — of  which  I  have  been  guilty.  But  I  was 
annoyed — disgraced — by  Mrs.  Fitzgerald's  place  of  residence; 
for  it  is  quite  true  that  the  women  in  whose  house  she  was 
domiciled,  were  recognised  swindlers. 

'  "  Was  it,  then,  so  very  incredible,  that  the  plausible  charge 
of  being  leagued  with  them  should  have  found  countenance 
with  me,  after  the  credence  which  had  been  given  to  it  by  the 
college  council  ?" 

' "  Monsieur  le  Comte,  as  it  was  an  impossibility  that  such  a 
charge  against  Mrs.  Fitzgerald  could  be  founded  in  truth,  I 
cannot  admit  of  any  excuse  for  giving  it  credence,  for  a  single 
moment,  on  the  ground  of  probability.  What  is  impossible,  can 
never  become  probable.  If  you  had  condescended  to  listen  to 
the  explanation  which  Mrs.  Fitzgerald  offered  you,  of  her  position 
in  the  Rue  St.  Florentin,  you  must  of  necessity  have  exculpated 
her  from  even  the  knowledge  of  any  impropriety  in  the  resi- 
dence into  which  she  had  been  thrown  by  accident.  But,  sir, 
you  seem  not  yet  to  know  that  the  woman  who  called  herself 
by  the  name  of  Murphy,  was  but  the  Margaret  Brian,  who  for 
so  many  years  persecuted  the  late  husband  and  family  of  your 
sister  Lady  Mulgrave ;  the  suspected  assassin  who  fired  into-  the 
undefended  cottage  of  your  widowed  niece;  the  blood-hound 
who  pursued  her  everywhere;  and  finally,  the  fiend  who 
defamed  her  name  and  honour,  when  she  was  severed  from  the 
protection  of  society  by  her  poverty,  without  even  giving  offence 
to  her  only  relative,  and  natural  defender,  in  this  (to  her)  foreign 
land.  There  cannot  be,"  I  continued,  "  a  single  doubt  that  Mar- 
garet Brian  was  the  author  of  at  least  some  of  the  defamatory 
letters  in  question.  For  though  criminating  in  them  her  own 
name,  she  could  not  injure  it,  having  already  attained  that  noto- 
riety in  evil  courses  which  rendered  it  impossible  for  any 
additional  infamy  to  damage  her  further,  in  a  place  where 
she  is  so  well  known  as  in  Paris.  But  I  have  reason  to 
believe  that,  besides  Margaret  Brian,  another  defamer,  far  more 
potent  than  she,  was  employing  his  influence,  in  conjunc- 
tion with  her  efforts,  to  ruin  your  niece's  reputation  with  the 

13 


•J90  HELEN  MULGRAVE;  OR, 

college,  mid  defeat  her  in  her  maternal  object  of  obtaining  un 
occasional  sight  ol'  her  son.  You  will  pardon  me,  Monsieur  le 
Comte,  if  I  point  out  the  Jesuit  executor  of  the  late  Mr.  Fitz- 
gerald's will  ns  this  atrocious  colleague  of  Margaret  Brian;  and 
when  I  further  say  that  this  individual  was  the  prompter  of 
Brian,  goading  her  for  his  own  purpose,  to  gratify  her  personal 
revenge,  by  making  the  daughter  answerable  for  the  fictitious 
•wrongs  of  which  she  accused  the  father,  I  am  but  suggesting 
Avhat  I  shall  be  able  hereafter  to  prove  to  yon.  It  was  undoubt- 
edly this  Jesuit  who,  by  communicating  habitually  with  Brian, 
informed  her  of  the  .progress  of  that  adversity  of  which  he  had 
been  the  sole  author.  It  was  he  who  employed  Brian,  to  watch 
the  moment  of  Mrs.  Fitzgerald's  arrival  in  Paris,  and  to  entrap 
her  into  her  own  house — he  who  prompted  her  daughter  to  the 
commission  of  a  Torgery,  by  which  your  niece  was  so  impover- 
ished as  to  be  placed  at  the  mercy  of  both  her  persecutors — and 
he,  through  whose  secret  agency  the  last  remains  of  her  property 
in  Ireland  were  destroyed  by  fire. 

' "  Brian,  though  thus  apparently  a  tool  in  the  hands  of  the 
Jesuit,  was  acting,  con  amore,  on  her  own  account,  while  she 
supposed  herself  meritoriously  fulfilling  the  behest  of  her  church 
in  the  destruction  of  a  distinguished  heretic." 

4  When  we  meet,  my  dear  Helen,  I  will  inform  you  of  the 
grounds  (which  will  be  new  to  you)  on  which  I  made  these  con- 
fident assertions.  Your  perturbed  uncle,  as  I  ceased  speaking, 
said  solemnly. 

' "  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  your  suspicions  of  those  wretched 
individuals  as  the  calumniators  of  my  niece  never  suggested 
themselves  to  me  before.  Can  it  be  possible  that  such  monsters 
have  had  any  influence  over  my  feelings !  But  I  will  atone  for 
the  wrong  I  have  done  Mrs.  Fitzgerald.  Pray  mediate  with  her 
for  me,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  that  she  may  be  induced  to  receive 
me,  and  accept  from  me  an  apology,  and  an  atonement  also, 
which  I  have  already  resolved  on  making.  I  am  but  little 
acquainted  with  her — I  hope  she  is  not  implacable,  although  I 
own  it  is  but  natural  for  her  to  entertain  resentment  against  me." 

' "  You  will  have  no  difficulty,"  I  replied,  "  in  making  your 
peace  with  Mrs.  Fitzgerald,  Monsieur  le  Cointe.  She  knows  not 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  291 

the  meaning  of  the  word  resentment.  She  is  no  ordinary  cha- 
racter; for  while  possessing  the  highest  endowments  of  mind, 
she  is  a  perfect  child  of  nature,  frank,  forgiving,  sincere,  and 
pure.  What,  indeed,  could  have  preserved  her  untarnished,  in  the 
atmosphere  of  a  residence  like  Margaret  Brian's,  but  that  halo 
of  innocence  which  encircles  and  defends  the  pure  in  heart?" 

'The  Count  de  Carryfort  was  either  touched  by  a  sense  of 
wrong,  or  humbled  by  the  conviction  of  it,  I  know  not  which. 
"We  parted  with  many  expressions  of  regret  on  his  part,  and  a 
promise  of  visiting  you,  my  beloved  Helen,  within  a  week,  at 
your  present  residence.' 

The'  day  after  I  received  the  foregoing,  Monsieur  de  Grani- 
mont  returned  to  his  apartments  in  the  Hotel  d'Angleterre,  and 
in  a  few  minutes  after  his  arrival,  was  at  my  house  in  the  park. 

As  ten  days  had  passed  since  we  met,  he  greeted  me  with 
excessive  emotion,  telling  me  I  was  so  much  improved  in 
appearance,  that  I  was  Helen  Mulgravo  again,  not  only  to  the 
heart  but  to  the  eye,  and  that  I  must  have  been  imposing  on 
him  when  I  called  myself  by  another  name. 
„  As  he  had  read  my  journal  during  his  absence,  Phad  a  feeling 
of  apprehension  at  meeting  him,  after  all  that  its  pages  had  dis- 
closed of  my  devotion  to  himself.  It  seemed  to  me  that  my 
heart  had  now  been  so  entirely  laid,  open  to  him,  that  nothing 
remained  to  be  revealed,  and  that  we  should  both  sink  into 
vapidity. 

But  it  was  not  so.  The  beaming  confidence  of  an  undoubting 
attachment,  which  now  displayed  itself  in  his  every  look  and 
word,  fell  on  my  heart  like  the  dew  of  morning  on  the  parched 
earth. 

Leonce,  while  commenting  with  me  on  the  statements  which 
he  had  made  to  my  uncle,  informed  me,  to  my  utter  astonish- 
ment, that  during  his  stay  in  Paris,  he  had  had  an  interview 
with  the  surviving  daughter  of  Brian  (alias  Murphy),  who,  for  a 
valuable  consideration  which  he  offered  her,  had  been  induced 
to  place  in  his  hands  the  letters  of  her  mother's  Irish  correspon- 
dents, amongst  which  he  found  many  of  the  Jesuit's  letters ;  and 
though  there  was  a  visible  break  in  the  sequence,  enough  of  it 
remained  to  justify  much  more  than  he  had  asserted  respecting 


292  HELEN    MULGRAVE  ;    OR, 

the  part  which  the  Jesuit  had  borne,  in  conjunction  with  Brian, 
relative  to  myself.  The  revelations  of  these  letters,  he  said,  dis- 
closed a  plot  of  the  most  diabolical  kind,  and  damning  to  its 
author,  although  wrapped  up  in  an  obscure  and  ambiguous 
phraseology,  which  could  only  be  deciphered  by  a  man  of  the 
world. 

'  But  it  is  my  intention,'  he  said,  '  as  soon  as  we  are  indissolu- 
bly  united,  to  take  Renel  in  hand,  and  deliver  him  over  to 
judicial  investigation,  on  the  ground  of  that  apparently  forged 
will,  which  has  been  made  the  instrument  of  your  persecutions. 
The  experiment  might  prove  unsuccessful ;  but  it  would  show  to 
the  world  at  least  one  instance  of  the  nature  and  extent  of  that 
unhallowed  power  which  the  Romish  church  confers  on  her 
priests ;  and  while  thus  serving  the  cause  of  a  secular  justice, 
would  also  exhibit  the  desecration  and  mockery  which  are  made 
of  a  religion  called  Christian,  by  the  practices  of  its  own  priests.' 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

MT  uncle  arrived  at  St.  Germain,  as  he  proposed,  and  in  an 
interview  which  I  had  with  him  alone,  he  made  the  most  ample 
acknowledgments  of  the  injustice  he  had  done  me ;  and  placing 
in  my  hands  the  letters  on  which  his  erroneous  impressions  had 
been  founded,  he  exclaimed,  '  Burn  them,  when  you  have  satis- 
fied yourself  of  their  author.  I  wish  it  was  as  easy  to  obliterate 
the  wrong  they  have  done,  as  it  is  to  destroy  them.'  On  exam- 
ining the  letters,  I  found  it  impossible  to  believe  otherwise  than 
that  Murphy  herself,  and  the  Jesuit,  had  been  the  writers  of 
them.  As  I  traced  these  proofs  of  a  malignity  so  inhuman, 
I  wondered  that  I  had  survived  its  effects ;  and  still  more,  that 
the  damage  of  it,  which  had  so  nearly  destroyed  both  myself 
and  family,  should  have  been  so  speedily  repaired.  Murphy's 
end  was  untimely ;  and  the  universal  history  of  crime  proves 
that  there  is  a  retribution,  even  in  this  life,  which  is  seldom,  if 
ever,  evaded  by  the  criminal. 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSUIP.  293 

"When  my  uncle  had  been  apprized  of  the  horrid  manner  of 
Mrs.  Murphy's  end,  he  exclaimed,  that  it  galled  him  to  the 
heart  to  reflect  on  his  having  been  made  the  tool  of  such  a 
fiend ;  and  that  he  could  no  otherwise  atpne  to  me  for  the 
wrong  of  which  he  had  been  guilty,  than  by  making  me  his 
heiress,  and  leaving  his  whole  property  to  me — which,  indeed, 
he  said  he  had  already  done,  by  his  will,  a  copy  of  which  he 
placed  in  my  hands  for  perusal. 

'  You  will  find,'  said  he,  '  that  I  have  encumbered  my  estates 
with  only  an  annuity  of  twelve  thousand  francs  per  annum 
to  your  sister  Caroline,  making  no  provision  for  my  sister,  Lady 
Mulgrave,  because  I  know  that  the  Baron  de  ."Wallenstein,  my 
brother,  has  already  provided  for  her,  in  case  of  her  surviving 
him.' 

As  he  ceased  speaking,  I  felt  a  painful  oppression  on  me,  and 
could  not  help  saying, '  My  dear  uncle,  I  am  for  ever  indebted  to 
you  for  your  kind  intentions ;  but  do  not  thus  crush  me  with 
your  bounty.  Take  back  your  estates  ;  I  shall  not  want  them  ; 
and  it  seems  to  me  that  so  immense  a  donation  will  cause  me  to 
feel  as  though  it  had  been  exacted  of  you.  Take  back  your  gift, 
therefore,  my  dear  uncle,  and  let  me  have  the  pleasure  of  feeling 
that  we  are  reconciled  friends,  without  so  costly  a  pledge  of  it.' 

It  was  in  vain  I  thus  expressed  the  pain  I  felt  at  the  greatness 
of  the  obligation  imposed  on  me.  My  uncle  replied  that  what 
he  had  done  was  irrevocable,  and  that  he  hoped  it  could  not  but 
be  a  satisfaction  to  me,  on  reflection,  to  know  that  thereby  my 
son,  to  whom  hereafter  his  estates  would  pass,  would  be  thus 
provided  for,  if  the  Jesuit  should  fail  to  restore  to  him  his 
father's  estates. 

'  I  know  well,'  he  continued,  '  the  excellent  man  who  is  about 
to  become  your  husband,  and  how  much  he  is  above  all  sordid 
views.  Nevertheless,  it  ought  to  be  some  little  gratification 
to  you  to  know  that  you  do  not  come  entirely  portionless  to 
him.' 

I  then  told  him  of  the  settlement  which  Monsieur  de  Gram- 
inont  had  made  on  my  daughters,  at  which  my  uncle  shed  tears, 
as  he  congratulated  me  on  my  happy,  prospects. 

In  spite  of  all  this,  I  had  still  a  consuming  anxiety  at  my 


294  HELEN    MULOKAVK  ;    OR, 

heart  for  a  sight  of  my  son,  whom  I  had  never  yet  been  allowed 
to  see.  Sometimes  I  fancied  he  might  be  dead,  or  rained  in 
health,  or  mind,  by  the  severity  of  the  discipline  through  which 
I  knew  he  must  JMISS. 

When  Monsieur  de  Grammont  returned,  I  of  course  related  to 
him  what  had  passed  between  my  uncle  and  myself.  He  was 
very  much  impressed  with  the  magnanimity  of  my  uncle,  in  the 
ample  and  unhesitating  regrets  he  had  expressed.  But  I  fancied 
he  would  rather  I  had  been  without  his  estates,  which,  he  said, 
had  come  too  late ;  and  that  for  himself,  he  must  drink  deep  of 
the  waters  of  Lethe,  before  he  could  think  of  those  sufferings, 
without  bitterness,  which  it  had  been  so  much  in  my  uncle's 
power  to  alleviate,  but  which  he  had  preferred  to  aggravate. 
'Nevertheless,'  he  continued,  '  man  must  not  sit  in  judgment  on 
his  fellow.  We  know  not  the  peculiar  organization  of  that  mind 
•which,  without  becoming  actually  criminal,  unconsciously  falls 
short  of  virtue  and  humanity.' 

Monsieur  de  Grammont  had  consulted  Mary  respecting"  the 
position  and  circumstances  of  my  good  Fanchette ;  and  having 
informed  himself  thereon,  settled  an  annuity  on  her,  which  left 
to  her  option  the  continuance  or  relinquishment  of  her  present 
laborious  occupation.  She  was  overwhelmed  with  gratitude 
at  this  provision  for  her  old  age — having  already  attained 
her  sixtieth  year — and  she  came  to  St.  Germain  expressly  to 
thank  her  benefactor;  when,  with  her  own  characteristic  viva- 
city, she  wept,  and  laughed,  and  wept  again,  in  endeavouring  to 
express  her  gratitude. 

It  was  thus  that  Monsieur  de  Grammont  relieved  me  of  every 
worldly  solicitude,  for  others  as  well  as  for  myself;  and  I  had 
the  prospect  of  being  able  to  assume  the  beloved  name  that 
awaited  me,  almost  without  a  care.  I  had  lived  so  many  years 
in  loneliness  of  heart,  that  to  be  again  in  possession  of  that 
felicity  which  arises  from  a  reciprocation  o'f  thought  and  feeling 
with  a  companionable  mind,  was  of  itself  happiness.  Yet  thus 
surrounded — almost  overwhelmed,  with  happiness — both  in  pos- 
session and  in  prospect,  undefinable  anxieties  sometimes  assailed 
me,  which  I  could  only  relieve  by  prayer,  or  conciliate  with 
tears.  The  storms  of  my  life  had  indeed  apparently  subsided, 


EXECUTORSHIP.  295 

but  '  the  cloud  returned  after  the  rain,'  and  the  shadows  of  the 
past  often  fell  on  my  path.  Even  in  my  brightest  moments,  in 
the  society  of  him  whose  fine  taste  embellished  every  thought 
he  nttered,  and  whose  ardent  spirit  infused  energy  into  the  very 
nothings  of  discourse,  the  question,  'Can  this  last?'  would  whis- 
per itself  to  my  soul,  and  quicken  enjoyment  to  agony.  But 
how  can  he  be  expected  to  step  firmly  who  has  for  years  been 
doomed  to  walk  over  quicksands,  or  tread  the  brink  of  an  abyss  ? 

I  had  been  inured  to  feel  the  supports  of  earth  so  often  sink- 
ing from  under  me,  that  I  had  not  yet  learnt  to  plant  my  foot 
securely  on  a  rock,  and  hardly  to  repose  in  peace,  under  the 
blessed  '  Gourd,'  which  celestial  hands  had  reared  around  me, 
and  which,  as  yet,  had  disclosed  no  '  worm  at  its  root.' 
***** 

As  there  was  still  much  preliminary  business  to  be  attended 
to  before  our  marriage  could  take  place,  Monsieur  de  Grammont 
returned  again  to  Paris.  The  day  after  his  arrival  there, 
Monsieur  de  Carryfort  waited  upon  him  at  his  hotel,  in  duo 
form  to  announce  to  him  his  having  made  me  his  heiress,  and  to 
express  his  fervent  approbation  of  his  becoming  his  nephew ; 
proffering,  at  the  same  time,  to  perform  the  service  at  the  wed- 
ding ceremony  of  giving  me  away,  in  case  my  uncle,  Sir  Felix, 
who  had  volunteered  to  perform  it,  did  not  arrive  in  time. 

It  had  been  proposed  by  my  uncle,  that  the  marriage  should 
take  place  from  his  house ;  and  my  mother  and  sister  had  been 
invited  to  meet  me  there,  with  the  Baron  de  Wallenstein, 
who  had  expressed  himself  desirous  of  assisting  at  the  ceremony, 
although  his  official  duties  at  the  court  of  Vienna  rendered 
it  doubtful  whether  he  might  be  able  to  accomplish  his  wish. 

My  dear  children  had  not  yet  been  informed  of  the  coming 
event ;    yet  their  chief  subject  of  thought,  of  talk,  and  of 
inquiry,  was  their  '  cTier  Monsieur  de  Grammont,'  as  they  called' 
him.     It  seemed,  indeed,  as  though  he  were  the  very  object  and 
impulse  of  life  to  our  whole  household — Mary  not  excepted. 

To  add  to  our  accumulating  joys,  Sir  Lucius  Mac  Neil  and  my 
sister  Dora  were  expected  daily  in  England,  and  it  was  hoped 
they  might  arrive  there  in  time  to  reach  Paris,  and  assist  at  tin* 
ceremony  so  anxiously  anticipated. 


290  HELEN  MULGRAVE;  OR, 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

WE  were  already  in  July,  and  only  a  few  days  remained 
betwixt  us  and  the  wedding  day,  when  as  I  sat  at  a  window  of 
my  house  at  St.  Germain,  a  carriage  at  full  speed  drove  up  to 
my  door.  Leonce  sprang  out  of  it,  and,  absorbed  in  him,  I  saw, 
for  the  first  instant,  only  him ;  but  as,  instead  of  entering  with 
his  usual  bound  into  the  hall  to  meet  me,  he  turned  to  speak  to 
eoine  one  whom  he  had  left  in  the  carriage,  I  peered  into  it  to 
see  whom  it  might  be,  and  beheld  my  mother,  my  sister  Caroline, 
and  my  own  dear  lost  child  I  In  a  moment  we  were  locked  in 
each  other's  arms  I 

This  restoration  of  objects  so  long  lost  and  so  dear  to  me,  was 
like  a  resurrection  from  the  dead ;  for  until  very  lately,  I  had 
cast  away  every  hope  of  seeing  them  again  in  this  world.  And 
now,  to  meet  them  under  the  circumstances  in  which  they  found 
me  was  an  event  to  dream  of,  but  scarcely  to  realize. 

Still,  here  we  were,  once  more  together ;  and  though  he  who 
had  been  the  key-stone  of  the  arch  on  which  everything  that 
constituted  our  family  felicity  had  once  rested,  was  no  longer 
amongst  us,  he  had  been  replaced  by  another,  who  had  become 
a  pillar  of  our  house,  and  was  no  less  a  centre  of  attraction, 
round  which  our  affections  congregated  almost  in  idolatry. 

My  son  had  been  torn  from  me  about  a  year  ago,  at  a  time 
when  I  could  least  spare  anything  I  loved.  Since  then,  I  had 
passed  through  the  severest  trials,  and  attained  the  highest 
earthly  happiness  of  which  our  nature  is  capable.  As  crowning 
events  to  this,  the  restoration  of  my  son,  and  the  sight  of  my 
dear  mother  and  sister,  left  me  for  the  moment  nothing  more  to 
wish  for.  My  happiness  was  so  great,  that  as  I  passed  from  the 
embraces  of  nay  mother  and  child  to  those  of  my  sister  and 
Leonce,  I  felt  as  the  patriarch  Jacob  had  once  felt,  and 
exclaimed  with  him,  '  Now  let  me  die !' 

My  little  Frederic  was  at  first  formal  and  timid,  and  scarcely 
seemed  to  remember  me ;  but  after  I  had  caressed  him  awhile, 


J26UIT   EXKCUTORSHIP.  297 

he  looked  earnestly  in  my  face,  and  began  to  cry.  When  his 
sisters  appeared,  there  was  again  a  little  dubiousness  about  him  ; 
but  the  vivacity  with  which  they  clasped  him  in  their  arms  soon 
awakened  recollection,  and  the  young  trio  were  not  long  in 
becoming  boisterously  happy. 

L6once  then  gave  me  a  history  of  the  efforts  by  which  at 
length,  unknown  to  me,  he  had  circumvented  the  Jesuit  execu- 
tor, but  which  had  not  been  accomplished  without  applying  to 
Charles  X.  himself.  Fortunately,  the  application  was  made  at 
a  time  when  all  Paris  was  in  a  ferment  respecting  Jesuit  intrigue, 
which,  it  was  universally  asserted,  was  making  its  way  into 
private  families,  as  well  as  public  bodies,  and  destroying  their 
peace.  A  project  was  proposed,  even  in  the  Chamber  of  Depu- 
ties, for  expelling  the  Jesuits  from  Paris,  which  was  rendered 
nugatory,  just  as  it  was  expected  to  pass  into  law,  by  the  dis- 
cov,ery  that,  as  the  law  of  France  ignored  the  existence  of  the 
Jesuits,  it  was  a  practical  solecism  to  propose  to  expel  them. 

"When  L6once  had  left  the  room,  and  I  was  able  to  contem- 
plate, with  undivided  attention,  the  traces  of  time  on  my  mother 
and  sister,  they  both  seemed  to  be  somewhat  impaired  by  it ; 
but  before  an  hour  had  passed,  I  had  become  so  familiar  with 
the  slight  shades  of  difference,  that  I  no  longer  saw  anything 
in  them  at  all  at  variance  with  my  doting  recollection  of  what 
they  had  formerly  been. 

My  mother  expressed  a  hope,  that  a  bank-note  which  she  had 
sent  by  post,  at  the  time  I  applied  to  the  Baron  de  Wallensteiu 
for  pecuniary  assistance,  had  been  useful  to  me.  She  had  sent 
it,  she  said,  unknown  to  her  brother,  who  had  grown  parsimoni- 
ous, and  could  not  be  prevailed  on  to  believe  that  my  destitution 
could  be  literal.  '  I  hoped,'  said  she,  '  that  the  baron's  incredu- 
lity might  be  well-founded  ;  but  I  knew  the  veracity  of  my  dear 
Helen,  and  dared  not  doubt,  though  I  shuddered  in  believing, 
her  statement.' 

Thus  carried  back  to  those  fearful  sufferings  which  had  passed 
away,  I  could  answer  but  by  tears,  and  only  told  my  mother, 
while  I  thanked  her  for  her  bounty,  that  I  had  never  received 
her  remittance. 

My  mother  was  very  much  affected  at  recognising  Mary  as 
13* 


298  HiaKN    MULGRAVE  |    OK, 

one  of  the  household,  who,  on  her  part,  shed  tears,  as  she  kissed 
my  mother's  hand. 

When  Rover  was  brought  to  her,  the  dog  instantly  recollected 
both  her  and  my  sister,  and  gave  them  eo  hearty  a  greeting  in 
his  own  way,  that  laces  and  silks  were  placed  in  no  small  peril 
by  him.  But  my  mother  was  so  delighted  with  his  honest  joy, 
th'at  she  would  not  allow  it  to  be  checked. 

In  a  few  hours  I  was  again  alone,  for  even  my  darling  boy 
had  departed,  to  return  to  the  college  for  the  present;  with  a 
proviso,  however,  secured  by  Monsieur  de  Grammont,  that  he 
should  be  allowed  to  visit  me  occasionally. 

There  is  a  peculiar  feeling  of  isolation  immediately  succeeding 
the  departure  of  those  we  love,  how  sure  soever  we  may  fancy 
ourselves  of  meeting  them  again  soon.  On  this  occasion,  I  had 
not  been  able,  as  Leonce  whispered  his  parting  words  of  tender- 
ness, to  withhold  my  tears.  It  was  a  childishness  for  which  I 
gravely  remonstrated  with  myself,  as  soon  as  he  was  out  of  sight. 
Almost  sated  with  happiness,  I  was  already  spoilt  by  it,  and  could 
not  endure  a  moment's  suspension  of  it.  I  am  ashamed  to 
record  that  my  weakness  so  affected  Leonce,  that  although  it 
was  too  late,  after  escorting  my  mother  and  sister  to  the  Rue 
d'Anjou,  to  return  to  me  again  that  evening,  he  was  at  my  break- 
fast table  at  eight  o'clock  on  the  following  morning 

There  were  no  railroads  in  those  days,  or  this  would  not  have 
been  a  remarkable  feat  of  locomotion.  But  a  ride  of  twelve 
miles  on  horseback  before  breakfast,  on  a  scorching  July 
morning,  for  so  paltry  an  object  as  that  of  drying  the  tears,  not 
of  sorrow,  but  of  weakness,  would  have  put  me  ill  at  ease  with 
myself,  had  I  not  been  so  great  a  gainer  by  the  enterprise. 
Monsieur  de  Grammont  brought  with  him  an  invitation  to  me 
from  my  uncle  De  Carryfort,  to  join  my  mother  and  sister 
immediately  at  his  house,  and  to  remain  there  until  my  wedding 
day. 

As  my  arrangements  for  leaving  my  children  for  a  few  weeks 
with  their  governess  at  St.  Germain  were  already  made,  I  was 
soon  prepared  for  removal.  But  L6once  and  I  did  not  set  out 
for  Paris  together  without  lingering  looks  at  a  place  to  which  I 
was  so  much  indebted  for  the  treasures  of  health  which  I  was 


JESUIT    EXKCTTOU.SIIIP.  'J!!',) 

bearing  away  with  me,  aud  in  which  we  were  leaving  our  chil- 
dren. 

It  was  not  possible  for  me  to  enter  ray  uncle  De  Carryfort's 
house,  shadowed  as  it  was  by  dark  memories,  without  deep 
emotion.  Yet,  after  the  first  few  hours,  I  found  it  a  delightful, 
and  an  affecting  change  to  be  in  Paris,  and  in  a  family  circle  of 
near  relatives. 

I  was  now  already  within  the  vestibule  of  happiness ;  yet  my 
experience  of  life  had  taught  me,  in  speculating  on  the  future,  to 
be  more  fearful  of  failure  than  hopeful  of  fruition.  Is  not  the 
Jesuit  still  on  my  track  ?  I  shudderingly  asked  myself.  Perhaps 
Leonce  had  similar  feelings ;  for  as  I  met  his  serious  gaze,  he 
exclaimed,  with  anxiety,  '  After  the  twentieth,  it  will  no  longer 
be  a  hope — a  vision— but  a  reality.  Life  wrill  be  spared  till  then. 
Let  us  not  doubt  it !  After  that,  we  will  brave  the  Jesuit  in 
concert!' 

The  day  of  fate  was  so  near,  that  we  began  to  feel  impatient 
for  the  arrival  of  the  distant  guests  invited  to  its  celebration ; 
but  we  approached  its  very  eve  without  hearing  anything  of  my 
sister's  arrival  from  India,  or  of  the  Baron  de  Wallenstein's,  or 
Sir  Felix  Mulgrave's. 

Happily,  at  eleven  o'clock  on  that  evening,  a  hasty  messenger 
from  Meurice's  h6tel  came  to  announce  to  Monsieur  de  Carryfort, 
that  Sir  Lucius  Mac  Neil  and  his  family  had  arrived  there.  The 
Baron  de  "Wallenstein,  from  Vienna,  was  announced  shortly 
after,  and  our  party  now  only  wanted  Sir  Felix ;  but  as 
Monsieur  de  Carryfort  had  offered  to  officiate  in  his  stead,  we 
were  able  to  proceed  without  him,  if  he  should  not  arrive  before 
morning. 


CHAPTER   XXXTV. 

I  ROSE  at  the  dawn  on  the  following  morning,  to  look  out  on 
the  eastern  sky  for  prognostics  of  the  weather.  It  had  a  lower- 
ing appearance,  but  the  dew  was  heavy  on  grass  and  flower, 
which  was  a  favourable  indication ;  and  the  birds  were  singing 


800  HELEN    MULGRAVK  J    OR, 

so  merrily  in  the  garden  overlooked  by  my  chamber  window, 
that  I  returned  to  my  bed  again,  in  full  hope  of  sunshine,  to 
gild  the  day  so  full  of  promise  to  the  future.  I  fell  asleep  so 
soundly  as  not  to  dream,  and  only  awoke  at  seven,  roused  by  a 
band  of  music  under  my  window.  Amongst  other  airs  that 
were  performed,  was  that  of,  '  Now,  with  grief  no  longer  bend- 
ing,' &c.  As  it  struck  on  my  delighted  ear,  I  heard  in  it  the 
voice  of  Leonce,  who,  I  knew,  must  have  specially  ordered  it  for 
the  occasion. 

The  words  of  the  song  naturally  led  me  to  contrast  the 
present  with  the  past,  and  the  antithesis  was  so  violent  as  to 
inspire  distrust  of  the  future ;  for  the  idea  of  the  Jesuit  still 
haunted  me  like  a  spectre,  although  happiness  had  never  before 
hailed  me  under  circumstances  so  promising.  But  under  the 
influence  of  sweet  sounds,  I  passed  from  this  distrust  to  joyous 
hope ;  and  as  my  heart  waked  to  devotional  gratitude,  I  adored 
him  who  delivers  us  out  of  the  furnace  of  affliction. 

As  Mary  answered  my  bell,  she  informed  me  that  Monsieur  de 
Grammont  was  already  in  my  boudoir,  awaiting  me  there  ;  and 
anxious  to  see  me  as  soon  as  possible.  I  was  not  long  in  making 
my  appearance.  As  I  entered  the  room,  he  was  pacing  it  up 
and  down  with  quick  steps.  I  was  struck  by  the  expression  of 
his  countenance,  and  feared  that  some  untoward  occurrence 
must  have  taken  place.  Trembling,  I  knew  not  why,  I  looked 
inquiringly  at  him. 

'  Fear  nothing,'  said  he,  '  I  am  the  messenger  of  frightful 
intelligence,  which,  though  it  must  shock,  will  not  afflict  you. 
The  last  of  those  fearful  beings,  that  for  years  have  haunted 
your  path,  has  vanished  for  ever.  The  Jesuit  is  no  more.' 

He  paused  as  I  covered  my  face,  overcome  by  the  unexpected 
intelligence.  In  a  few  seconds  he  proceeded. 

'A  horrible  mystery  hangs  over  this  apparently  premature 
death,  which  seems  to  have  been  produced  by  poison,  received 
in  the  sacramental  wafer  at  the  bed-side  of  a  dying  man.  The 
name  of  that  man,  you  will  hardly  guess.  It  forms  a  singular 
coincidence  with  past  events. 

'  The  man  is  said  to  be  the  parish  priest,  who  formerly,  in 
league  with  Brian,  carried  off  your  father's  jewels,  and  was  sup- 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  301 

posed  eventually  to  have  murdered  her.  You  are  aware  that 
the  homicide  had  been  under  the  protection  of  the  church,  ever 
since  that  occurrence,  in  a  quarter  of  Paris  inaccessible  to  the 
police.  Finding  himself  dying  of  an  incurable  malady,  but  still 
capable  of  crime,  he  contrived,  in  receiving  the  last  sacraments 
from  the  hands  of  Father  Benel,  whom  he  had  solicited  to 
administer  them,  to  introduce  poisoned  wafers,  both  for  himself 
and  his  victim,  so  that  they  are  both  dead.  This  is  all  that  has- 
yet  transpired  on  the  subject.  I  have  had  a  moment's  interview 
with  your  uncle  De  Carry  fort,  this  morning,  respecting  it ;  and 
he  is  of  opinion,  with  me,  that  Frederic  may  now  be  easily 
released  from  the  guardianship  of  the  remaining  executor ;  when 
both  the  dear  child  and  his  estates  will  come  under  our  own 
immediate  guardianship.' 

I  was  so  much  stunned  by  the  suddenness  of  the  information 
I  had  received,  that  I  did  not  at  the  first  moment  perceive  all  its 
momentous  consequences  to  myself.  But  an  instant's  reflection 
showed  me  that,  by  the  death  of  the  Jesuit,  I  was  at  once  res- 
cued both  from  Popery  and  the  'grasp  of  the  priests.'  The 
galling  chains  that  had  so  long  fettered  my  very  soul  fell  off  as 
by  an  angel's  touch,  and  the  profoundest  joy  would  have  taken 
possession  of  my  heart,  if  it  had  not  been  checked  by  the  horrid 
manner  in  which  my  deliverance  had  been  effected.  Leonce  and 
I  sat  awhile  in  silence,  and  forgetfulness  that  it  was  our  wedding 
morning. 

As  the  recollection  of  it  recurred,  the  coincidence  of  the  day 
and  the  deliverance  increased  our  happiness.  The  striking  of  a 
clock  reminded  us  that  time  was  advancing,  and  that  we  might 
be  too  late  for  the  appointed  hour.  I  was  therefore  compelled 
to  insist  on  L6once's  instant  departure,  who,  while  he  affected  to 
rebel,  after  blessing  and  thanking  me  for  the  part  I  was  about  to 
assume,  in  words  never  to  be  forgotten,  hurried  away. 

Scarcely  had  the  door  closed  after  him,  when  my  sister  Dora 
entered.  What  a  meeting  was  ours,  after  so  many  years  of 
absence,  and  so  much  suffering  !  When  the  first  transports  of 
our  greeting  were  over,  Dora,  with  all  the  juvenile  gaiety  of 
former  years,  exclaimed,  '  And  so,  my  little  Nelly,  after  having 
been  so  long  in  the  crucible,  you  are  come  out  of  it  alive,  and 


r-'t'j  IIKI.I:N  MULGRAVK;  on,  . 

are  really  going  to  marry  your  first,  if  not  yonr  only  lovo ! 
(.'harming!  Your  kusband,  too,  a  knight  of  romance  m>m  the 
realms  of  fancy,  if  he  were  not  so  decidedly  and  visibly  a 
reality,  that  one  is  delighted  to  acknowledge  the  supremacy  of 
fact  over  fiction.  You  must  permit  a  little  effusion  of  nonsense, 
my  darling  Nelly,  on  this  happy  morning,  as  a  measure  of  safety 
to  my  heart,  which  is  so  full  of  joyous  agitation  at  this  happy 
termination  of  your  sorrows,  that  I  must  either  faint  or  cry,  if 
obliged  to  suppress  its  emotions.  I  have  so  long  doted  on 
Leonce,  that  now  he  is  about  to  become  my  brother,  my  love  for 
him  exceeds  all  bounds.  When  he  first  arrived  amongst  us  in 
India,  he  was  in  a  most  deplorable  state  of  melancholy,  and 
beset  at  the  same  time  by  many  captivating  young  women,  whom 
only  such  a  preoccupied  heart  as  his  could  have  resisted.  At 
that  time,  seeing  how  wretched  he  was,  I  should  have  been 
happy  had  he  been  able  to  make  choice  of  one  of  them.  Only 
think,  dear  Nelly,  what  a  world  of  mischief  I  should  have  occa- 
sioned, had  I  succeeded  in  my  little  innocent  offorts  to  make 
him  forget  you !  I  tremble  to  think  of  it.  Oh,  how  much  bet- 
ter Providence  orders  our  affairs  than  we  could  order  them  for 
ourselves ! 

'  When  he  had  been  with  us  about  two  months,  we  heard  of 
your  having  become  a  widow,  and  of  your  utterly  ruined  for- 
tunes, both  at  the  same  time,  but  almost  two  years  after  the 
death  of  Mr,  Fitzgerald.  The  news  agitated  us  all  to  an  exces- 
sive degree,  but  Monsieur  de  Grammont  was  so  changed  by  it 
that  we  hardly  knew  him.  He  was  like  one  raised  from  the 
dead.  The  chronic  maladies  of  mind  and  health,  which  had  so 
long  been  depressing  him,  all  disappeared  at  once,  and  he 
became  active  and  energetic,  in  spite  of  the  climate.  Within  a 
week  after  this  news,  he  was  on  his  way  to  England.  I  should 
like  to  hear  an  account  of  your  first  meeting,  Nelly,  but  this  is 
no  time  for  retrospect.' 

While  listening  to  my  dear  Dora,  and  gazing  on  her  bright  and 
charming  face,  I  had  forgotten  time  :  but  recollecting  ourselves, 
we  abruptly  terminated  our  interview. 

After  a  short  interval  in  my  own  chamber,  I  returned  again  to 
the  boudoir,  and  found  Leonce  waiting  there  to  take  me  to  the 


JESUIT   EXKCUTORSHIP.  303 

breakfast-room,  where  we  joined  our  family  circle,  amongst 
whom  was  the  Baron  de  Waileustein,  whom  I  had  never  before 
seen. 

My  two  uncles  were  most  affectionate  in  their  reception  of  me, 
and  seemed  to  vie  with  each  other  in  the  magnificence  of  their 
wedding  gifts  to  the  bride  of  the  Marquis  de  Grammont.  Why 
did  thought  wander,  at  the  moment  of  receiving  them,  amongst 
the  frightful  spectres  of  the  past  ? 

My  dear  mother  was  of  the  breakfast  party,  looking  pale  and 
serious. 

As  L6once  and  I  bent  before  her,  to  ask  her  benediction,  she 
joined  our  hands,  and  blessed  us  in  her  own  quiet  tender  man- 
ner, saying  that  if  it  were  permitted  to  the  departed  to  revisit 
earth,  she  had  no  doubt  the  spirit  of  another  parent  was  hover- 
ing over  us,  with  blessings  as  fevent  as  her  own.  This  sweet 
flight  of  fancy  and  of  hope  elevated  our  thoughts  to  a  higher 
sphere,  while  the  affecting  reminiscence,  awakening  thoughts  of 
him  we  had  lost,  made  us  feel  anew  how  much,  even  in  the 
midst  of  happiness,  we  had  still  to  deplore. 

Sir  Lucius  Mac  Neil,  whom  I  had  not  yet  greeted,  was  at  my 
side,  as  my  mother  ceased  speaking,  with  an  offering  of  warm 
and  brotherly  wishes  for  L6once  and  myself.  As  our  guests 
were  beginning  to  arrive,  my  uncle  De  Carryfort  led  me  to  the 
saloon,  the  remainder  of  the  family  immediately  following  us, 
I  was  so  happy  as  to  observe  amongst  the  first  arrivals,  my  old 
friend  Mr.  O'Callaghan,  and  to  receive  from  him  the  warmest 
felicitations  of  his  kind  heart. 

Many  other  charming  persons  crowded  round  me,  to  offer,  with 
an  empressement  and  a  grace  peculiarly  French,  the  compliments 
of  the  occasion. 

The  carriages  were  soon  announced,  and  we  were,  in  a  few 
minutes,  at  the  Ambassador's  Chapel. 

Our  marriage  had  been  arranged  in  the  English  fashion,  but  at 
the  entrance  to  the  chapel  I  found  an  avenue  formed  of  young 
French  girls,  dressed  in  white,  with  chaplets  on  their  heads, 
each  bearing  a  basket  of  flowers,  which,  as  I  passed  along,  they 
strewed  in  my  path. 

This  is  an  ordinary  French  practice,  but  being  unexpected  by 


304  HELEN  MULGRAVE;  OR, 

me,  it  affected  me  so  much,  that  had  not  my  uncle,  De  Carryfort, 
been  at  my  side,  I  should  not  have  been  able  to  preserve  my 
composure,  as  the  harsh  contrasts  of  my  life  rushed  on  my 
memory. 

Bishop  L ,  at  that  time  chaplain  to  the  embassy,  awaited 

our  arrival  in  the  chapel,  and  in  a  few  minutes  Leonce  and  I 
stood  together  before  the  altar  of  God. 

The  ceremony  was  soon  performed,  when  I  had  the  tearful 
felicity  of  being  hailed  by  Leonce  as  '  his  own  dear  wife.' 

Shortly  after  our  return  to  the  Hue  d'Anjou,  we  took  leave  of 
our  family  and  friends  there,  and  set  off  towards  an  ancient 
family  chateau  of  Monsieur  de  Grammont's,  near  Auxerre,  on 
the  Yonne,  about  twenty  miles  south  of  Paris,  accompanied 
only  by  Mary  and  a  personal  servant  of  my  husband's. 

As  we  cleared  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  the  sun  shone  resplen- 
dently  on  the  fields  and  foliage  that  sprang  into  view,  and  we 
bowled  along  in  a  trance  of  unutterable  delight. 

It  was  the  anniversary  of  the  day  on  which  we  had  first  met, 
at  Mulgrave  Castle,  twelve  years  before  ;  and  as  we  looked  back 
and  recalled  that  day,  so  eventful  to  us  both,  we  were  led  to 
glance  at  the  sufferings  and  the  happiness  of  which  it  had  been 
the  fruitful  source. 

In  doing  so,  my  own  attention  was  especially  arrested  by  the 
effect  which  our  family  intercourse  with  Leonce  had  had  on  the 
religious  opinions  of  so  many  of  our  circle.  For  although  he 
was  both  an  unproselyting  and  tolerant  Protestant,  yet  the  depth 
of  his  information,  the  force  of  his  arguments,  and  the  modera- 
tion of  his  statements,  brought  so  much  inquiry  into  play,  that 
to  him  might  be  traced  the  secession  from  the  Romish  church 
of  at  least  four  persons  in  our  family,  whom  the  truth  had  made 
free.  What  a  trophy  for  him  to  incorporate  with  his  family 
honours,  if,  indeed,  it  may  be  permitted  to  speak  of  associating 
Buch  a  triumph  with  the  perishing  distinctions  of  earth ! 

Monsieur  de  Grammont  and  myself,  now  that  our  personal 
anxieties  had  subsided,  began  to  feel  the  blessedness  of  union  of 
opinion  and  feeling  in  the  great  and  paramount  concerns  of 
religion.  L6once  was  no  idle  talker  on  sacred  things;  he  felt 
too  deeply  their  importance  to  speak  of  them,  or  even  to  allude 


JESUIT    EXECUTORSHIP.  305 

to  them,  without  reverence.  He  had  nothing  about  him  of 
what  is  ordinarily  understood  by  'religious  cant.'  A  mere 
verbal,  conventional,  and  ostentatious  piety,  as  foreign  to  the 
sincerity  and  simplicity  of  an  humble  faith  in  divine  truth,  as  to 
good  sense  and  good  taste.  If  religion  consisted  in  the  mere 
adoption  of  its  dialect  and  its  technicalities,  it  would  be  easy  to 
become  pious.  But  if  '  pure  and  undefiled  religion'  is  our  aim, 
and  we  descend  into  the  deep  of  the  heart  as  the  temple  of  it, 
we  shall  find  that  we  have  a  daily,  hourly  battle  to  wage  with 
ourselves,  which  is  as  humiliating  as  it  is  difficult  of  achieve- 
ment ;  and  in  which  we  are  conquerors  only  through  faith  in 
Him  '  who  giveth  us  the  victory.' 

French  Protestantism  had,  at  the  period  of  which  I  am  speak- 
ing, a  peculiar  character,  which  I  hardly  know  how  to  describe 
faithfully.  There  was  in  it  a  latitude  of  charity,  an  absence  of 
exclusiveness,  and  yet  a  fervour  of  zeal  in  its  professors,  which, 
while  it  laboured,  like  the  disciples  of  a  new  faith,  to  establish 
and  extend  itself,  was  yet  so  unassuming  and  tolerant  that  you 
at  once  recognised  in  it  the  spirit  of  Him  who  came  not  to 
judge,  but  to  save.  The  true  Christian  feeling  seems  indeed 
everywhere  to  be  that  of  forbearance  with  mere  error  of  opinion, 
rather  than  persecution  of  it.  . 

Monsieur  de  Grammont  had  been  for  years  a  sincere  disciple 
of  the  Protestant  faith  in  France,  which,  though  countenanced 
at  this  time  by  the  government  of  Charles  the  Tenth,  and  assisted 
by  annual  supplies  from  its  treasury,  was  nevertheless,  in  various 
localities,  'persecuted,  afflicted,  and  tormented.' 

L6once's  absence  from  his  native  land  for  many  years,  had  pre- 
vented him  from  lending  his  name  and  influence  to  its  promotion. 
But  now,  as  he  was  about  to  live  at  home,  he  traced  out  for 
himself  extensive  projects  of  usefulness  to  it,  in  which,  feeling 
that  we  should  be  '  labourers  together,'  he  promised  himself  the 
happiness  of  assisting  its  growth ;  for  he  considered  the  cause  of 
Protestanism  to  be  the  cause  of  civil  and  religious  liberty,  the 
cause  of  morals,  and  the  cause  of  truth. 

In  views  and  feelings  such  as  these,  L6once  and  I  were  per- 
fectly in  unison ;  and  while  we  hoped  and  cherished  the  belief 
that  we  were  heirs  together  of  eternal  life,  we  deeply  felt  that 


306  HELEN    MULGRAVE  ;    OR, 

we  were  but  pilgrims  and  strangers  upon  earth,  journeying 
towards  a  tinal  home.  As  we  poured  out  our  hearts  to  cacii 
other  during  our  journey,  we  felt  that  we  were  entering  on  a 
m-\v  era,  and  a  happier  world;  and  had  not  the  adversities  of 
the  past  been  written  ineffaceably  in  our  hearts,  we  might  have 
forgotten  the  tenure  on  which  all  the  felicity  of  the  earth  is 
held.  But,  although  a  chastening  perception  of  it  mingled  with 
our  feelings  and  restrained  our  joy,  we  dared  not  repine  at  that 
tenure  ;  for  is  not  life  itself  transient  as  a  vapor  that  '  appeareth 
for  a  little  while,  and  then  vanisheth  away  ?'  Yet  the  conscious 
eternity  of  our  spirits  inspired  deathless  hopes,  as  we  discerned 
afar  that  future  world,  in  which  there  '  shall  be  no  more  death, 
neither  sorrow,  nor  crying.' 


[The  following  letter  by  MART,  as  it  forms  somewhat  of  a 
sequel  to  the  foregoing  tale,  will  not,  perhaps,  be  wholly  unac- 
ceptable to  the  reader. — EDITOR.] 

< 

Ch&teau  de  Grammont, 

July  22d,  183T. 

Dear  Mrs  O'Connell, 

I  hope,  ma'am,  you  have  not  thought  me  negligent 
in  being  so  long  in  writing  to  you  the  account  you  asked  me  for 
in  your  last  kind  letter. 

I  hope  Sir  Felix  is  well,  though  from  his  not  arriving  in  time 
to  my  dear  lady's  wedding,  I  am  afraid  he  is  not.  Please,  give 
my  best  duty  to  him. 

Great  and  happy  changes  here,  dear  Mrs.  O'Connell  1  Our 
dear  Miss  Helen,  that  once  was,  after  suffering  worse  than  any 
martyr  ever  since  her  first  marriage  with  a  gentleman  quite 
unsuitable  to  her,  is  at  last  married  to  that  dear  Marquis  dc 
Grammont,  who  ought  to  have  been  her  husband  from  the  first. 
As  I  have  very  little  time  at  present,  I  do  not  intend  to  write  a 
long  letter,  but  only  just  to  give  you  an  idea  of  how  our  troubles 
have  at  last  ended.  The  Count  de  Carry-fort,  after  treating  my 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  307 

dear  lady,  his  own  niece,  worse  than  an  impostor,  and  only 
because  she  was  poor,  turned  about  on  seeing  that  the  marquis 
had  offered  her  his  hand,  and  actually  made  her  his  heiress. 
I  never  saw  such  a  regular  turn-about  in  my  life.  I  wonder  he 
was  not  ashamed  of  himself;  but  he  seemed  to  forget  himself 
entirely  in  the  grandeur  of  the  match,  although  the  marquis 
was  a  Protestant ;  and  on  the  wedding  morning  he  presented 
such  a  magnificent  present  of  diamonds  to  the  bride,  that  I 
couldn't  help  crying  at  sight  of  them,  when  I  was  packing  them 
up,  to  think  how  glad  she  would  have  been,  when  she  and  the 
dear  children  were  starving  to  death,  to  have  had  but  the  small- 
est amongst  them  to  buy  bread  with.  But  this  is  a  strange 
world,  Mrs.  O'Connell,  where  the  love  of  money  makes  people 
forget  what  is  so  far  before  it — the  love  of  their  neighbour. 
But  when  people  forget  their  own  flesh  and  blood,  it  is  quite 
unnatural  and  monstrous !  The  Baron  de  Wallenstein,  another 
nncle  of  my  lady's,  gave  her  a  complete  set  of  emeralds ;  and 
rings,  and  bracelets,  and  coronets  without  end,  came  in  from  all 
quarters.  My  heart  swells  while  I  write  this,  to  think  that 
none  of  these  uncles  and  bountiful  givers  came  to  her  help  when 
she  wanted  it.  My  lady  herself,  dear  blessed  creature,  cares 
nothing  about  ornaments ;  nor  is  her  beauty  of  a  kind  to  require 
them.  She  is  more  handsome  now,  I  do  assure  you,  than  she 
was  when  she  was  sixteen,  though  she  has  a  very  sad  look  at 
times,  as  she  always  had,  you  kn6w.  I  had  myself  the  pleasure 
of  dressing  her  for  her  bridal ;  and  a  sweet  dress  it  was ;  white 
and  silver,  as  simple  as  hands  could  make  it,  by  a  French  modiste, 
and  a  splendid  gossamerlike  lace  veil,  falling  from  the  crown  of 
her  head  over  her  beautiful  shoulders,  with  a  tiara  of  large 
pearls  (the  marquis's  gift)  mixed  with  orange  blossoms.  Oh,  I 
shall  never  forget  the  sight,  when  I  saw  her  and  the  marquis 
standing  before  the  altar — both  so  handsome  1 

The  day  before  the  wedding,  a  party  was  made  from  the-h6tel 
of  the  Count  de  Carryfort,  to  the  h6tel  of  the  marquis,  in  the 
faubourg,  and  I  was  allowed  to  attend  my  lady  there.  It  was  a 
most  splendid  day,  and  when  our  carriages  arrived  at  the  hotel, 
we  were  received  in  great  state.  All  the  men-servants  were  in 
rich  liveries,  and  so  many  of  them,  and  so  polite. 


308       .  HELEN  MULQBAVK;  OR, 

After  we  bad  gone  over  the  house — (I  say  we,  for  though  I 
did  not,  of  course,  walk  into  the  rooms  with  ray  lady,  I  walked 
after  her,  and  saw  everything  she  saw) — well,  as  I  was  saying, 
after  we  had  gone  over  the  house,  we  came  to  the  picture 
gallery,  at  the  upper  end  of  which  was  a  whole  length  picture, 
with  a  curtain  of  crimson  velvet  before  it,  lined  with  white 
satin. 

When  it  was  drawn  aside,  what  should  I  see,  but  a  life-size 
painting  of  rny  lady,  which  the  marquis  had  had  taken  of  her 
by  an  artist  he  sent  to  Ireland,  some  years  since,  expressly  for 
that  purpose.  I  remember  hearing  of  it  at  the  time,  and  my 
lady  had  reason  not  to  forget  it,  though  I  had  quite  forgotten  it, 
till  I  saw  the  painting  uncovered,  and  Miss  Helen  Mulgrave, 
in  white  muslin  and  myrtle  blossoms,  looking  just  as  she  did 
when  I  put  her  on  that  dress  to  go  to  a  ball  at  Cork. 

I  was  never  tired  of  standing  before  it ;  and  it  was  so  like  her, 
that  I  almost  dropped  my  curtesy  to  it  when  I  first  looked  at  it. 
My  dear  lord,  as  he  now  is,  has  an  apartment  fitted  up  in  his 
hotel  for  my  lady's  children  and  their  governess — five  or  six 
most  pleasant  rooms,  overlooking  one  of  the  gardens.  I  thought 
there  was  no  end  to  his  kindness ;  and  indeed  there  is  not.  T 
cannot  tell  the  half  of  what  I  have  seen  of  his  fondness  for  my 
lad}T,  and  her  children,  too.  But  I  must  not  forget  to  tell  you 
that  the  Jesuit  Executor  is  dead — they  say  of  poison.  But  no 
matter  what  it  was  ;  the  world  is  well  rid  of  him  now,  and  the 
consequences  to  my  dear  lady  will  be  very  great,  and  she  is 
likely  to  get  Master  Frederic  out  of  the  college ;  and  all  the 
family  are  likely  to  have  their  own  again.  Besides  this,  my 
lady  will  now  be  made,  through  the  interest  of  the  marquis, 
guardian  to  her  son.  What  a  beautiful  thing  power  is,  when  it 
is  used  to  do  good !  May  God  long  continue  to  my  lord  and 
lady  all  their  possessions  and  fine  qualities,  till  they  are  ready  for 
a  better  world !  I  am  sure  you  will  say  amen  to  that,  and  I 
must  soon  write  finis  to  my  letter,  which  is  getting  too  long. 

I  have  laid  down  my  pen  a  bit,  just  to  read  an  English  Paris 
paper,  Galignani'ls,  and  I  learn  from  it,  that  the  Jesuit  and  the 
priest,  I  mean  the  Irish  parish  priest,  were  both  poisoned ;  but 
it  is  thought  that  the  Jesuit,  who  was  in  full  health — while  the 


JESUIT   EXECUTORSHIP.  309 

priest  was  already  a  dying  man — had  no  thought  of  dying.  But 
the  parish  priest,  a  cunning  sort  of  fellow,  found  out  that  the 
Jesuit  had  a  design  upon  his  life,  in  order  to  get  hold  of  some 
jewels  which  the  priest  had,  and  would  not  give  up  to  him :  and 
he  thought  he  would  be  up  with  him,  and  secretly  provided  a 
poisoned  wafer,  which  he  contrived,  by  some  sleight  of  hand,  to 
exchange  for  the  one  which  the  Jesuit  had  got  for  himself.  Of 
course,  the  Jesuit  died  in  great  agonies ;  the  priest  lived  an  hour 
or  two  after  him. 

It  has  just  come  into  my  head,  that  the  jewels  must  have 
oeen  my  master's,  Sir  William  Mulgrave's.  It  makes  my  blood 
run  cold,  to  think  of  the  two  wretched  men,  both  deliberate 
murderers,  receiving  their  death  through  the  sacrament,  that, 
according  to  their  pretensions,  was  to  save  their  souls  I 

But  I  have  not  yet  told  you  anything  about  our  beautiful 
Chateau  de  Grammont,  where  we  are  at  present  staying — that  is, 
my  lord  and  lady  and  myself,  and  one  town  servant,  my  lord's 
valet. 

All  the  servants  here  are  old-fashioned,  and  all  Protestants,  as 
my  lord  will  have  no  others  upon  his  estates,  for  the  sake  of 
peace  and  harmony  in  the  kitchens.  They  are  all  simple  coun- 
try people ;  and,  although  they  are  clever  servants,  can  neither 
read  nor  write,  except  the  housekeeper  and  the  butler,  who  read 
the  Scriptures  in  the  housekeeper's  room  to  them  daily;  and 
they  are  so  fond  of  their  lord,  although  they  never  give  him  his 
title,  but  call  him  Monsieur  de  Grammont,  or  notre  cher  Mon- 
sieur. Titles  are  quite  out  here — but  I  shall  always  call  my  lady 
the  marchioness,  for  I  like  the  sound  of  it,  and  she  is  so  well 
entitled  to  it.  I  was  always  sure,  from  my  dreams  and  other 
tokens,  that  she  would  some  time  or  other  have  her  due. 

The  chateau  is  a  beautiful  house,  though  a  very  ancient  place, 
and,  like  our  Mulgrave  Castle,  has  haunted  rooms  in  it. 

I  have  such  a  beautiful  chambre  d  coucher — that  means  a  bed- 
room— with  curtains,  and  every  comfort ;  and  it  is  so  near  to  my 
lady's  room,  that  I  can  answer  her  bell  in  a  moment,  when  she 
rings.  The  house  is  very  large,  and  has  been  lately  fitted  up  for 
a  great  party,  which  is  expected  here  in  about  a  fortnight. 
First,  there  are  my  lady's  two  uncles,  the  count  and  the  baron, 


310  HKLEN    MULGRAVE  ;    OK, 

and  next,  Lady"  Mulgrave  and  Miss  Caroline ;  then,  Sir  Lucius 
Mac  Neil  and  his  lady  and  four  children,  and  last,  though  not 
least,  the  two  Fitzgeralds  and  their  governess ;  and  as  every  one 
will  bring  servants  with  them,  there  will  be  a  fine  housefull  of 
us,  when  all  are  assembled ;  besides  Fanchette,  who  is  coming  to 
visit  the  servants,  and  Mr.  O'Callaghan  to  my  lord.  I  ought 
to  have  mentioned  him  first,  but  I  am  sure  he  is  too  good  to  care 
for  it. 

But  we  are  to  have  a  fortnight  to  oarselves  first,  for  I  heard 
the  marquis  say  to  my  lady,  that  till  his  own  dear  fortnight  was 
passed,  he  would  not  receive  Charles  X.  himself.  My  lady  and 
he  walk  about  the  park  and  grounds  every  day,  and  ride  out 
together,  and  have  their  evenings  to  themselves,  as  they  have 
caused  it  to  be  announced  in  the  neighbourhood  that  they  do 
not  receive  company  until  the  arrival  of  their  friends  from 
Paris. 

When  we  arrived  here  on  the  wedding-day,  we  were  received 
with  bands  of  music,  and  we  entered  the  chateau  under  a 
triumphal  arch,  and  my  lady  stepped  from  her  carriage  into  the 
house  on  roses  and  myrtles.  The  butler  and  the  housekeeper 
are  both  elderly  people,  and  were  in  the  service  of  my  lord's 
father  and  mother  before  the  revolution ;  and  it  would  have 
done  your  heart  good  to  see  how  they  were  dressed,  when  they 
stood  at  the  door  to  receive  us.  I  thought,  to  be  sure,  some  of 
the  court  had  got  to  the  chateau  before  us ;  though,  on  second 
thoughts,  I  was  sure  none  of  the  court  of  Paris  dressed  in  their 
fashion.  I  wish  I  had  time  to  describe  to  you,  dear  Mrs. 
O'Connell,  how  their  silver-white  hair  was  disposed  of  round 
their  dear  old  wrinkled  faces ;  the  butler  with  a  long  queue,  and 
the  housekeeper  with  a  high  cushion  on  her  head. 

I  am  afraid  I  am  very  straggling  in  my  account;  but  you 
must  excuse  me,  I  have  been  here  so  short  a  time,  and  my  head 
is  almost  turned  with  happiness. 

On  the  wedding  morning,  just  before  my  lady  went  down  to 
breakfast,  after  fhad  dressed  her,  and  was  standing  looking  at 
her ;  she  came  across  the  room  to  me,  and  with  tears  in  her 
eyes,  put  into  my  hand  the  sweetest  little  pocket-book  I  ever 
saw,  full  of  beautiful  prints,  and  with  silver  clasps.  Inside  was 


JESUIT    KXECCJTOR8HIP.  311 

a  bank  bill  for  a  thousand  francs,  which  I  never  saw  till  this 
morning,  for  I  did  but  just  open  it  on  the  day  I  received  it,  and 
was  so  taken  up  with  the  pictures,  that  I  looked  no  further ;  so 
I  knew  nothing  of  the  bank  note,  and  I  have  not  yet  thanked 
my  lady  for  it.  I  must  now  wait  till  her  bell  rings  before  I  can 
go  to  her,  and  I  am  sure,  I  shall  never  be  able  to  thank  her  as  I 
ought. 

I  hope  Sir  Felix  will  come  here,  and  meet  his  many  relations 
while  they  are  at  the  chateau ;  although  to  be  sure,  it  is  a  long 
journey  for  him ;  but  as  he  was  not  at  the  wedding,  my  lady 
has  written  to  invite  him  here,  and  she  and  my  lord  both  intend 
to  return  his  visit  at  Mulgrave  Castle.  I  have  just  been  to  the 
window,  to  look  out  for  them,  as  they  have  been  out  for  several 
hours,  and  I  see  the  chariot  at  a  distance,  driving  very  fast  home, 
followed  by  Rover.  Although  they  do  not  receive  visitors,  or 
make  visits  in  the  neighbourhood  at  present,  I'll  warrant  you 
they  will  be  well  acquainted  with  all  the  sick  and  poor  people 
for  miles  round. 

We  have,  a  beautiful  little  Protestant  chapel,  that  is  to  be, 
erecting  here  on  the  grounds ;  it  is  but  just  begun,  but  the  mar- 
quis says  he  means  to  spend  all  his  summers  here,  as  long  as  my 
lady  likes  the  place.  And  I  am  sure  she  will  like  any  place  he 
likes  and  where  he  is.  What  a  blessing  for  people  to  marry 
those  they  love !  But  the  carriage  stops  at  the  door,  and  the 
servants  are  already  there,  to  receive  my  lord  and  lady,  so  they 
will  be  upstairs  in  a  moment.  There  it  is-^-my  bell  rings,  and  I 
fly  to  my  lady. 

I  remain,  dear  Mrs.  O'Connell,  hoping  this  will  find  you 
well,  as  it  leaves  me, 

Your  affectionate  friend  and  former  fellow-servant, 

MAET  WALTER. 

P.S.  Oh,  -my  dear  Mrs.  O'Connell,  my  lady  has  just  told  me 
that  the  opposition  to  the  Protestant  chapel  we  are  building  is 
so  great  from  the  Roman  Catholics  here,  that  the  labourers  on 


31'2  HKLKX    MULGKAVK  ;    OR,    JESUIT    EXECUTORSHIP. 

it  do  ilieir  work  in  peril  of  their  lives.  The  marquis,  however, 
says  that  Frenchmen  are  not  assassins,  except  under  priestly 
influence,  and  that  he  will  probe  this  persecution  to  the  bottom  ; 
for  he  is  sure  of  finding  some  wretched  priest  or  other  working 
up  the  ignorant  country-people  against  his  chapel;  and  if  ho 
cannot  check  this  persecution  otherwise,  he  will  carry  the 
matter  before  the  highest  tribunal  in  France.  I  should  not  say 
all  this  to  you,  dear  Mrs.  O'Connell,  if  I  did  not  believe  that  in 
your  heart  you  are  a  Protestant,  although,  for  the  sake  of  peace 
and  security,  you  conform  outwardly  to  the  Komish  church.  I 
know,  at  any  rate,  that  you  read  the  Scriptures  daily.  May 
God  give  us  both  grace  to  learn  from  their  perusal  the  way  to 
heaven,  though  it  should  be  a  narrow  and  thorny  road.  Think 
of  what  our  dear  marchioness  has  suffered  for  the  cause  of  the 
Bible,  and  let  us  also  be  steadfast,  and  labor  to  endure  unto  the 
end,  that  we  may  be  saved. 

MABT. 


THE     END. 


UCSB  LIBRMTT 

y. 


281994 


DC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A    001  396  570    2 


